A Languor in the Life
by Mistmantle
Summary: Something I started a long time ago. I was getting impatient, so I wrote my own little bit. Sharon gets injured on a case, and this is the story of her team and family coming together to track down her would-be assassin. Everyone is here, from Kris and Brenda to Andrea and Sanchez.
1. The Beginning

**_A/N- I've been working on this for _****_a, ummm,_****_ rather un-Godly amount of time, off and on, and I started it before the third season started. I've tried to correct everything to fit into canon, ie: Cat Raydor is now Emily, Ricky isn't a total jerk, ect. I hope you enjoy this, because I loved, loved, loved writing it. The whole thing is done, so updates should be regular (: Let me know what you think!_**

Rusty was sitting at a table with two of the other boys from the chess club. Despite the fact that they had graduated and he had been absent for the better part of the school year, they still got together to play chess in the park. There were several of the kids from St. Joe's there, actually.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket; someone was calling him. He was tempted to ignore it, but he slipped it out and glanced at the number. It was Buzz. He frowned.

"I'll be right back, I've got to take this." He waved his phone at his friends and ducked away, behind a nearby tree. "Hello?"

"Rusty?" Buzz sounded breathless.

"Yeah?" He said slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Rusty, it's the Captain." Buzz sounded tense.

He leaned back into the oak. The ground seemed to be sliding out from under his feet. "Buzz-" His voice came out unnaturally high pitched.

"Lieutenant Provenza is coming to pick you up. You're going directly to Cedars. We're all on our way."

"What happened?"

"Rusty," Buzz's voice softened. "Rusty, the Captain was shot."

"Oh my God!" The words echoed in his ears, and someone turned to look at him. "Oh my God, Buzz is she-"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, but I don't know. Flynn is in the helicopter with her."

Rusty nodded, even though he knew Buzz couldn't see him.

"Rusty, the Lieutenant will be there soon."

"Okay." He ended the call and walked back to the stone chess tables. His backpack was on the grass; he picked it up and swung it over his shoulder.

"Rusty? Are you okay?" It was Kris, of all people. She stared at him.

"It's my mom." The word slipped out. "Not- Sharon. Sharon's been hurt." He grabbed his chessboard, and waved goodbye before hurrying towards the front of the park.

Footsteps sounded behind him. "Rusty! Wait up!"

"Not now, Kris." He pushed past the shrubbery between him and the sidewalk.

She followed him. "Rusty, what happened?"

He paused and faced her. Her face was crinkled with worry, and he sighed internally. She had been so nice, even after he'd run away from her. "Sharon was shot, Kris." He glanced towards the street, looking for Provenza's cruiser.

Her mouth dropped. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know. She's getting life-flighted."

"Oh my God."

Rusty could see Provenza's car turning the corner. "I gotta go."

"Rusty-" Before he could do anything, Kris hugged him tightly. "Good luck. Call me, okay?" She looked up at him, and he nodded. Maybe they could be friends again. Just friends.

Before she could do anything else, he pulled away and ran across the concrete.

"What happened?!" Rusty yanked the car door shut and Provenza slammed his foot down on the gas. The car screeched away, sirens screaming.

"Someone was waiting for her." The man's eyes were glued to the road. "We got a tip-off on our case, and left to go check it out. We had just gotten past the doors, and. . ." he trailed off. "Someone was waiting for her. Shot her right when she came outside. The guy's alive, Taylor's questioning him, but I have no idea why he did it."

"Is she going to be okay?"

There was a long silence. "I don't know, kid."

Rusty stared out the window. "Did someone call her kids?" He wasn't the only other person in Sharon's life.

"I think Tao did."

"Jack?" The only way to battle the terror welling up inside was to fight it with logistics.

Another silence. "I don't know. Frankly, I don't care. He's not important now, Rusty. Don't worry about him."

"Okay."

They rode in silence until they reached the hospital, where Provenza parked illegally, his LAPD parking pass displayed on the dash. Rusty swung the car door open and jumped out, but waited for Provenza. The logical side of his mind was still in charge, telling him he'd find Sharon faster if he stuck with the lieutenant.

They walked inside, and stepped up to the nurses' desk. Provenza flashed his badge, and they were on their way again. He reached over and tapped Rusty's shoulder.

"Hey, kid, stay with me."

"Huh?" He was in a daze.

"Stay with me. Don't go passing out on me or anything."

"Yeah."

They made their way up to the second floor, where they saw a waiting area filled with the detectives of Major Crimes Division. Pope was there, too, and a few men Rusty didn't know. He saw a blonde haired woman behind Flynn, and he ran to her.

"Brenda!"

* * *

><p><strong><strong>_"Lieutenant, do we have any leads on the Matthews case?" Sharon tapped the murder board with an Expo marker. They had just come from lunch, hoping a break might help. They had been working the case all weekend, and Monday morning hadn't brought any new information._

_"No, ma'am." Provenza leaned back in his chair._

_"Ballistics has nothing, SID has nothing, tox screen is clean," Tao called from his desk. "I can't find anything weird on his phone."_

_"Not affiliated with any gangs," Sanchez added. He rolled his chair over to Flynn's desk and pulled the beanbag out of the man's top drawer, tossing it back and forth between his hands._

_Sharon sighed. "Nothing?"_

_"Nothing." It was a chorus._

_She took a step back and sat on the edge of Provenza's desk. He grumbled at her, but it was half-hearted. She smirked at him._

_A phone rang, and they all reflexively glanced at their own respective cells and landlines._

_"It's me." Flynn picked up his desk phone. "Major Crimes, this is Flynn. Okay. Yeah, yeah. Can I have your name? Oh, yeah, sure. What? Hold on." He mumbled something as he scrawled something on a sticky note. "Yeah. Hey, wait-" He looked up at them. "A tip."_

_"Supposedly," Provenza said, flicking his newspaper out across the desk. "We've got one earlier, but it was just some idiot screwing around."_

_"No, this sounded decent. Some chick said she'd seen Matthews Friday night, at uh-" he paused to read off the address he'd written down. "Some nightclub, I guess. She said she's a waitress there, and she'd talk to us if we meet her there. Didn't want to give me her name or anything, though. Sounded skittish."_

_Sharon glanced up at the murder board. "Let's go. There's nothing we can do here, so we might as well see if this woman has anything to tell us. I'll come with. She might be more likely to talk to me and Amy." She slid off the desk and swung her jacket off the side of the rollaway whiteboard. "Everyone can come. There's nothing here and who knows what kind of trouble a scared witness could get into. We don't want any problems." She smirked at them, knowing her excuse to get them all outside was perfectly transparent._

_Despite the seriousness of the case, they were all smiling as they made their way downstairs. It was May, sunny and warm, but not too hot, with a cool breeze blowing in over the ocean. Sykes shoved the door open, nearly closing it on Buzz, but catching it in time. Sharon closed her eyes when she stepped out and breathed deeply. The trees were in full bloom, and the air smelled like flowers. She'd been inside for far too long. Maybe she could convince Rusty to eat on the patio with her._

_"Hey, Captain!" A voice came from behind, by the building they had just left._

_She turned, hand reaching for where her glasses usually hung from her blouse. Had she dropped them?_

_A flash of light caught her eye, and she looked up in time to see sunlight sparkling off the barrel of a gun, pointed at her._

_"Captain!"_

_"Put the gun down!"_

_"Sharon!"_

_There was a loud crack, as loud and painful as lightning. She looked down in surprise. There was a brilliant ruby dye spreading across her shirt._

_She was disappointed; Gavin had just given her the blouse for her birthday. Maybe the dye would wash out. She touched it with one finger, and her whole hand came away warm and slick._

_There were voices, and suddenly she was looking up at Flynn's face, backlit by the sky._

_"Sharon!"_

_After a split second, reality seemed to strike, and she gasped with sudden panic. Bleeding. She had been shot. Oh, God, it hurt. Oh, God. Jesus. Jesus save me. Stop the bleeding. Rusty. Rusty and Ricky and Emily. Oh, God. Oh, God._


	2. Unfinished

_**A/N- So I have a midnight to three desk shift. If I get all my homework done, or if I need a study break, (; expect another update. I love you guys. Thanks for the reviews!**_

Brenda turned as a tow-headed missile crashed into her, and she stepped back into Fritz.

"Rusty."

"What happened?" He looked up at her, face pale.

She shook her head. He had grown so much since she'd seen him. "That's what Chief Taylor is tryin' to figure out. Last I talked to him, they didn' know much. They think it was connected to some prior case of hers, but the guy won't talk, so they aren't gettin' anywhere."

"Is she gonna be okay?"

Brenda shrugged, sorry she couldn't say anything to help him. "I don't know that either, Rusty."

The boy turned around and surveyed the rest of the group. They were all blood-spattered. Flynn and Tao seemed to have taken the brunt of it. They had clearly washed up, but their white sleeves and the knees of their pants were stained reddish-brown.

Rusty looked away and sat in one of the chairs. "Did anyone call her kids?" he asked. They needed to be there. He couldn't remember if he'd already asked. If he had, he didn't remember the answer.

"Yeah," Flynn replied. "Both of 'em. Ricky will be here in a couple hours, and Emily's going to get here tonight."

"Okay." He looked down at his hands. What had he told Sharon that morning? Probably not "I love you," but nothing bad. He couldn't remember exactly.

* * *

><p>Ricky Raydor joined them in the waiting room just under two hours later. He looked windblown and held a speeding ticket in one hand. He was a classical Californian: tall, with dark, ruffled hair and umber eyes. He sat next to Rusty and slung an arm around the younger boy. They sat in silence together, holding each other up. They had only met once before, and, although Ricky hadn't said anything to his face, Rusty suspected Sharon's son wasn't too keen on a teenage miscreant living with his mother. It didn't seem to matter now. Their one common factor was in danger, and nothing else was relevant.<p>

They called Emily, stalled in the Denver airport, when the doctor came out. He looked tired, still wearing his train-patterned skullcap.

"Are you all here for-"

"Sharon Raydor." Ricky and Rusty stood and the surgeon stepped towards them.

"Let me call our sister," Ricky said. "She needs to hear." He dialed her, and she picked up immediately.

"Ricky?"

"Her doc is here, Emily. I'm going to put you on speakerphone."

"Okay." Her voice crackled over the phone's small speakers. "Hi, Doc. I'm Emily Raydor."

"I'm Doctor Lewis. I'm the on-call trauma surgeon today." He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up. "Your mom came in with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. It was a fairly large caliber- I'm sorry, but I don't recall what exactly off the top of my head- and it came in by her lower left ribs, went through her spleen and lodged in the back of one of her ribs. The bad news is that the bullet chipped her ribs and nicked her diaphragm. That caused her lung to collapse."

They could hear Emily start crying into the phone.

"The good news is that we took her spleen out without much trouble. We put a chest tube in as well, and took the bone chips from her ribs out. She's not awake, but she's stable. If she can make it through tonight, her chances get astronomically better." He reached into his pockets before speaking again. "There was a second shot, higher up, but it only left some bruising."

"What?" Ricky frowned.

"Someone was watching over her. That's all I can think of. The second bullet would have hit about here-" he touched a spot just over his heart. "But her badge was clipped onto her breast pocket, and it stopped the shot. There's a lot of bruising, external and on the bones, but that's all." He pulled his hand out of his pocket again and uncurled his fingers.

Sharon's gold badge rested on his palm. The front, a picture of some buildings Rusty didn't recognize, was distended and buckled. The "a" and the "p" of "Captain" were almost completely flattened.

"Jesus."

There was a long silence.

"Ricky? Rusty?" Emily's voice hissed over the phone. "My plane is boarding. I need to go. I'll be at LAX in two hours. Give Mom my love, okay?"

"We will," Ricky said as Rusty took the badge.

"I love you guys, too. Could someone call Gram and Granddad?" She hung up before they could reply.

"There is some good news," the doctor finally said. "There's only a minimal concussion. From what I could gather, she hit her head when she fell. There's some bruising on her face, and we splinted her left wrist for some fractures, again from the fall. You can come and see her, if you want, though." The doctor looked surprised when everyone stood. "You'll have to take turns," he amended.

There were about a dozen people: Brenda and Fritz, the three men that Rusty learned were from Sharon's old squad, and the remainder of Major Crimes. Pope had been called away an hour before. They followed the doctor down the hall and stopped at the nurses' station.

"This is Roxanne," Lewis said, waving a hand to a dark-skinned woman with wildly curling hair. "She's the best nurse on this whole floor."

The woman stood up behind her desk. "Hello," she said gently. Her scrubs were wildly patterned with rainbow rabbits. For some reason, Rusty found himself liking her already. "I'm here all night, and I'll be taking care of your mom."

"Can we see her?" Rusty blurted out.

Roxanne glanced at the clock, then at the assembly before her. "I can only let two of you in at a time, but the rest of you can wait here as long as you stay out of the way." She cast an eye over them, warning them. "Who's first?"

Ricky and Rusty stepped forward. She led them down the hall a few feet and stopped at a sliding glass door on the left. The room had no true wall, just glass and some curtains. Roxanne looked back at them before sliding the door open and ducking in. The boys followed her.

Rusty didn't cry in front of people. He might come close, and that would be his cue to leave the room. He glanced to Ricky, then reached around the other boy in a slightly awkward one-armed hug. Sharon was a hug person. Her sons were not, not really.

He didn't want to look at Sharon, but he did it anyways. She almost looked like she was simply asleep. Most of her makeup had smudged off, and her hair was slightly tangled, and then there was a thin tube running across her face. It looked like the oxygen-nose-things he'd seen in movies. There was a bruised and gritty scrape across her cheek. And then- he cut himself off. There were an endless number of "and thens." Someone had pulled a blanket up to her shoulders, and both arms rested on top of the covers, one IV of clear fluid in her right hand, and a second running blood into her left elbow, as her hand was wrapped in what looked like cotton gauze under an Ace bandage.

"It looks scary, I know."

They both looked back at Roxanne.

She smiled slightly. "I'm going back out to keep a watch on the rest of your crew. Hit the button if you need anything." She pointed to a call box on the wall. She was almost out the door when Ricky spoke.

"Hey, miss?"

"Yes?" She leaned back around the door.

"When will she wake up, do you think?"

The nurse sighed, her face falling slightly. "Our earliest guess is several hours, yet. Do you want me to ask Doc Lewis?"

"No, ma'am," Ricky replied. "Thanks." Together, he and Rusty sat down in the chairs by the bed.

After a few minutes of long silence, Rusty spoke. "What's that?" Apparently Ricky knew a little bit of everything, according to Sharon, and machines were electronic, so Ricky would know the basics about them, right? Even if he didn't know, speaking was better than silence.

Ricky looked up, surprised. "Uh, that's a heart rate monitor."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks. You obviously get your natural intuition from your mother, Captain Sharon Obvious. I meant the other stuff." He hoped he hadn't overplayed the humor, but he couldn't stand the depressive atmosphere.

Ricky snorted, like his mother once again. He glanced over at Rusty, a smile playing on his lips. He chuckled slightly, raking his hair back, and before they knew it, they were both laughing. It sounded mildly hysterical.

"That's a pulse oximeter," Ricky finally said. "Blood pressure cuff, supplementary oxygen, chest tube."

"Is it normal for that thing to be bloody?"

Ricky leaned forward to follow Rusty's gaze. "Yeah, I think so. Chest tubes drain out whatever's making the lung collapse, like air or blood."

"So it's good."

"It's helping, yeah," Ricky replied. "But the best thing is that she's breathing by herself. When people are. . ." he struggled for words, clearly trying to make his thought understandable to Rusty. "Knocked out, like for surgery, the docs put a tube down their trachea and hook 'em up to a respirator that breathes for them, so to speak. And sometimes, when people are-" he paused again. "Like Mom. Beat up real bad or something, they stay on the respirator for a while. For her to be off it so soon is good. Probably means her lungs are clearing up. I dunno, though, for sure."

"That's okay."

They sat quietly for a while, lost in thought.

"I guess we should let the others in," Ricky said finally.

"Yeah. I think Flynn really wants to see her."

Ricky glanced over as they stood. "Yeah?"

Rusty raised his eyebrows. "They went on a couple of dates, I think. She says they aren't, but they go out to dinner, like, all the time. She didn't tell you?"

"No." He rubbed his mother's arm. "Jesus, Mom, you can't leave us hanging like this. Emily's gonna grill me about your boyfriend, and I won't have anything to tell her." He stepped towards the door to give Rusty a moment.

He squeezed Sharon's hand slightly and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "C'mon Sharon." He stood again. He had thought about saying something else, the four-letter L word, but she was going to be fine. He'd tell her when she was better. She probably wouldn't even hear it if he told her now. Nonetheless, he leaned over again. "You haven't finished the adoption papers."


	3. Richard William

_Ricky glared at his rearview mirror as the flashing lights of a state trooper caught his eye. He gritted his teeth and pulled over. A long minute later, a man in a crisp, dark uniform walked up._

_"License and registration, please."_

_Ricky handed them out the window and leaned forward to look up at the officer._

_"Look sir, I have an explan-"_

_"Save it, kid."_

_"My mom is LAPD-"_

_"That so?" he said disinterestedly._

_"Yeah, and she was shot and I'm trying to get to LA, because I don't know if she's-" he couldn't say the words. Of course she would make it through. If nothing else, Sharon Raydor was tougher than a two-dollar steak, tougher than a Calculus-C test, tougher than she should ever have needed to be._

_"Kid," the man glanced up. "If I had a dime for every time someone told me they were related to the Chief of Police-"_

_Ricky grimaced. "Look it up, please sir, I could call someone there and-"_

_The man was already walking back to his cruiser with Ricky's papers._

_He sighed and pulled his phone out of the cup holder in the center console. There were no missed calls, just a few messages. Emily, asking for updates, Rusty, giving updates, that Mike Tao guy, giving more accurate updates._

_Ricky jumped as the phone began to vibrate in his hand. It was Tao calling._

_"Hey."_

_"Hey, where are you?" Tao asked._

_"Hung up a couple miles out of town. I'm getting a ticket for speeding."_

_There was an annoyed noise on the other end of the line. "Pass the phone to the officer, and I can take care of this."_

_Ricky leaned out the window, pleased to see the trooper was finally coming back._

_"Get in the car!"_

_"Sir, the phone's for you!"_

_The officer looked utterly confused, but took the cell anyway._

_"Hello? LAP- No, I don't answer to y- No. Yes. But- I can't give freebies to cops' kids, I don't care- Fine. Yes. Fine." He handed the phone back, deeply annoyed. "Look kid. I don't care who your friends are, I can't just let you go for this. I get that there's a situation, so I'm just going to give you a warning." He sighed, seeming world-wearing. "Now get your ass outta here."_

_"Thank you!" _

* * *

><p>Emily Raydor blew in like a hurricane. She had clearly left for the airport as soon as she'd been phoned: her auburn hair was up in a tight bun, and she was still dressed in her dancewear. Pink tights, a beige leotard, black spandex, a sweater, and an overlarge shoulder bag with tulle and satin ribbon poking out.<p>

When she got closer, he could see wisps of hair pulling loose from the bun. Her eyes seemed unnaturally shadowed, and he realized she was wearing false eyelashes and the smudged remnants of eyeliner that had valiantly tried to retain its waterproof status.

"Is she awake yet?"

Ricky jumped. He had been half-asleep on Rusty's shoulder. It was past midnight. "No," he mumbled.

"I'm going to see her." Emily squeezed Ricky's shoulder and stepped past them into their mother's room.

"Emily-"

She had already closed the door, and Ricky sighed. "Flynn's in there again, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Rusty replied. "I think he fell asleep."

"She's gonna give him the third degree on the whole event. Poor guy."

"Yeah."

Andy Flynn awoke when the door cracked shut. He looked up, blinking tiredly. The unclear figure of a woman stood before him, not moving. "Sharon, get back in bed," he mumbled, before he blinked again, mentally slapping himself. It couldn't be Sharon. "Sorry." He sat up, waiting for the woman to start the same routine the nurses went through every couple of hours.

"Who are you?" The voice was like Sharon's, slightly higher with a faint New York accent.

"Andy Flynn. And you are-?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to wake himself up.

"Emily Ra-"

"Oh, yeah. Sharon's girl. Sorry, can't really see you." He was too tired to bother with being polite.

She turned and seemed to realize she was backlit. "Oh." She moved further into the room and sat on the edge of her mother's bed. "How is she?"

He turned to look at them. "I don't know, really. You heard the doc earlier?"

"Yeah."

"I don't think much has changed. They said she might be waking up is about midnight, or early morning. What time is it, anyway?"

"About midnight."

They both looked at Sharon's shadowy figure. Aside from the regular rise and fall of her chest, she didn't move.

Emily nodded, mostly to herself. She crossed the room and dropped her bag on a chair. She looked out the window as she untangled an elastic from her hair. She pulled out a solid dozen pins, and it fell in curls past her shoulders.

"You come straight from your studio or whatever you call it?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Your friend- Mr. Tao? He called when we were on break. I just- I told Rosema- our manager- I told our manager what happened and called a cab." She snorted. "I've got my phone, my wallet, ballet slippers, pointe shoes, and not much else."

Flynn sat up a little straighter. He was thoroughly awake now. "Can we get you anything? I mean, the whole team is just here until further notice, and we could use a job."

"Everyone is still here?" She seemed surprised.

"Yeah. I think most of your mom's old squad is here, too."

"Oh." Emily looked up at him suddenly, forehead creased in confusion. "Oh, I'm sure you all have places to be-"

"Nah. Not really."

"Thank you." She wandered back over to the bed and sat on the edge, taking her mother's hand. "It's so kind of you all."

"Anytime, kid." Flynn stood and stretched. "I'll go let your brother in."

"Can you let Rusty in with him? He's one of us, too."

Flynn smiled. "Sure. I don't think the nurses will mind much." He ducked away, and a few minutes later, the two boys came in. Ricky slumped into one of the chairs, and Rusty sprawled across the floor, stretching his limbs.

"I'd like the whole story," Emily told them.

Ricky sighed. "I don't think anyone has it, yet."

"What do you mean?"

"They got the name of the guy who. . . who shot her, but they don't know why, really," Rusty said from the floor. "I guess he had some kinda record, and they think it was a contracted hit, because he had a picture of her in his pocket or something. I heard Sanchez talking, and he shut up as soon as he saw me. They're gonna put some cops on her door when the squad has to go, though."

"Any guess as to why it was her?" Emily was determined to get an answer from someone.

It was Ricky's turn to shrug. "Some guy- Taylor, I think- said they're going through her old cases and stuff like that. See what turns up."

A soft rustling noise made them freeze. One of Sharon's hands twitched slightly and slid off her chest, palm up. Rusty could see the moonlight catching the blue veins on her wrist. They watched her in silence for several long minutes, before it seemed clear that she wasn't awakening.


	4. Flynn

_"Sharon!" Flynn watched as she stood in stunned silence for a long moment, staring at the blood on her hand. She toppled backwards, arms outstretched like a fallen hawk, and hit the ground a moment before Flynn's hands could catch her. Sykes was also in motion, streaking after the shooter, Sanchez behind her. Buzz was already on his phone, calling for an ambulance, and Tao came up behind Flynn, pulling his jacket off._

_"Press this down. Hold her head up a little."_

_"Sharon, can you hear me?"_

_"Captain?"_

_Then there were uniforms all around them, some holding the public back, offering assistance, taking the man that Sykes and Sanchez were dragging back with them, being none too gentle._

_Tao could feel his hands sliding across Flynn's as they both tried to staunch the outflow of blood. It was warm and slippery. He couldn't recall ever being so close to so much free-flowing ichor, even in med school. It wasn't an event he particularly enjoyed, he found._

_A shadow moved across his back and he glanced up. Provenza had removed his jacket and was holding it over the three on the ground to protect them from sun and prying eyes._

_A crowd was already gathering a little ways away when Buzz stepped up to his friends._

_"Life-flight is on its way."_

_"What, no ambulance?" Flynn asked._

_"Ambulance is going to take too long in this traffic," Mike replied. "They'll probably just land the helicopter over there in the courtyard. Lieutenant-" he looked up at Provenza. "When it arrives, hold your jacket over her so dirt doesn't get in her wounds." The words felt cold and impersonal, but he didn't know what else to say._

* * *

><p>"Hello?" she mumbled sleepily, rolling over so her face was only half mushed into her pillow.<p>

"DDA Hobbs?"

She muffled a moan. "Yes, Lieutenant?" Provenza had an unmistakable voice. "What's so urgent you needed to call me now?" She knew she sounded snippy, but she'd had a late night, courtesy of Lady Liberty. Deliberation at her last trial had run far longer than she'd hoped.

"It's the Captain."

"Yes?" There was a silence. "Does she want to talk to me?" Another pause. Something wasn't right; she could tell that now.

"She was shot this afternoon."

"Oh my God." Andrea could feel her breath catch in her chest.

"Hobbs? You still there?"

It took her a moment to force the breath back out. "Yes."

"We're all at Cedar's. She's not awake yet, but Sykes thought we should call you, since you and the Witch are so close." The way he said "witch" was kindly, a familiar nickname, rather than the catty moniker it used to be.

"She's-" The word "alive" wouldn't come out. She had never equated Sharon Raydor with terms like "alive" or "dead." The woman simply was. She was a mountain: always there, steadier than a rock, the apogee of consistency.

"She's still with us." Provenza's tone softened. "I'm sorry we didn't call earlier. We were trying to get her kids organized and-"

"Don't worry about it. Did anyone call Jack?"

There was an annoyed huff on the other end of the line. "No."

"Good."

The silence seemed as surprised as silence could.

"Jack's useless in situations like this," Andrea muttered. "And besides, who knows where the hell he is anyway?" She sighed, clearing her mind. "I'll call Gavin and we'll be over within the hour. Is there anything I should bring? We both have keys to her condo."

"Uh-" She had clearly overloaded the lieutenant with the new details of the Witch's personal life. He was probably trying to store them in his memory for future reference. She suppressed a laugh.

"I'm guessing you probably know her kids, then?"

"Of course."

"I'll just have her daughter call you if they want anything."

"Perfect. See you soon." She hung up and started getting ready to leave.

Twenty minutes later, she was at Gavin's house, banging on the front door. She had a key, but it didn't seem like a good idea to creep into someone's house in the wee hours of the morning. She had forgotten to call ahead until she was already in the car. She heard rustling behind the door, and knew he was looking through the peephole. The locks retracted, and he pulled the door open.

"Darling, I'm afraid you came to the wrong address. You're not my kind of booty call." He leaned in the doorway in a purple robe and raised his eyebrows. "What's going on?"

"Shar was shot."

His jaw dropped, and for once in his life, he was speechless. "Is she okay? I mean obviously not, if you're here-"

"Gavin! Hush." Andrea pushed past him. "They didn't tell me much, but I think it was pretty bad. She wasn't awake when I talked to Emily."

"Emily's here? Is Ricky here, too?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking the LAPD pulled some strings to get Emily a flight, but they're both at the hospital. Emily called me and asked if we could swing by Sharon's place and get some things."

"Of course. Give me a minute to get dressed." He vanished up the stairs.

"It'd better be just _a_ minute, Gavin!" She ducked into the man's kitchen and turned the coffee maker on. They were going to need it.

* * *

><p><em>Flynn sat in the helicopter, crammed into a corner seat, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. He thought Tao would have been more helpful; after all, he'd gone to med school or something. But the team had forced him into the 'copter instead.<em>

_It was hard to hear anything over the thwack-thwack of the rotors. Maybe it was just that he was having a hard time hearing anything through the white noise of his own fear._

_There was a constant flutter of activity. He didn't know what was going on, but everyone seemed to have a job. He supposed his job was just to sit in his corner and hold Sharon's hand._

_Hold her hand. The thought jogged his mind, and he squeezed her fingers slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. She probably couldn't feel it. Actually, he hoped she couldn't feel it, because if she could feel his hand, then she would definitely feel every-_

_"She's coding!"_

_Coding._

_"V-tach!"_

_The flutter geared up into a full-throttle hurricane._

_"Push two of epi!"_

_Syringe wrappers dropped like maple seedpods. Someone took a monstrous pair of scissors and began to slice up the silken blouse she'd been so worried about._

_There was a hand on his arm. "Detective, I need you to to stand back."_

_Flynn realized with a start that he still had her hand. He let it go and watched as a defibrillator was brought out at warp-speed and the paper that covered its gel pads was ripped off._

_"Charging to two-hundred!"_

_He had hoped that maybe one day, he get to see the skin that was on exhibit now. He had been thinking it would happen under different circumstances, though: both of them awake and sober, with freely given consent. Real life couldn't be more different. They were on a helicopter, she was fighting for her life, and her pale skin was covered in blossoms of bruising and blood._

_There was a sudden silence._

_He waited for some indication of life, but there was only the monotonous screech of some monitor._

_"Charging again."_

_"Clear."_

_There was a muffled thump and her back arched momentarily._

_Everyone stood frozen, waiting._

_Finally, a harsh beeping permeated the cabin. Flynn released the breath he hadn't been aware of holding._

_"Got her."_

_"I think we need to try and drain the thoracic cavity now. There's definitely some kind of buildup under her lungs, and we can't risk having her crash again like that."_

_"Give me a-"_

_Flynn tuned it out again. He reached for her hand and held it tightly. He wasn't at all devout, and almost never went to church, but he prayed- to anyone and everyone- that she could hold on just a little longer._


	5. Johnson-Howard

_**Four days down. One to go. Thank you everyone for the kind words. Keep giving feedback, please! Just because I wrote the end doesn't mean everything is set in stone. (: Also, here's a long chapter in honor of naps and passing grades.**_

"Uncle Gavin! Aunt 'Drea!" Emily sat up in her chair and lunged for Gavin.

"Woah there, sweetie." Gavin carefully set the cardboard coffee holders down on the edge of the nurses' desk everyone was sitting across from. "Coffee isn't good for Valentino." Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around the young woman. Andrea did the same with Ricky. "I'm so sorry," Gavin said. Emily started to cry. "Oh, honey," he whispered as the tears turned to gut-wrenching sobs.

Provenza watched the spectacle in surprise. He knew the Captain was well acquainted with Hobbs, and she had seemed quite friendly with Gavin when the squad had dealt with him a few years back. He had never realized they were _friends_, and that her _kids_ were friends with them as well. Emily had held herself together perfectly, just like the Captain always did, until she saw Gavin.

Gavin held her tightly, and they rocked back and forth slightly until the tears ebbed slightly and she pushed herself back.

"Thanks." Emily rubbed her palms across her eyes, smearing mascara and tears around, before running the side of her thumb against her nose. "I'm a hot mess."

"Anything for you, and it's understandable." Gavin pulled a tall cup out of the coffee holder and passed it to her. "Including a campfire mocha with two shots." He passed another cup to Ricky. "I figured that your job has increased your caffeine resistance, so I took the liberty of adding four shots."

Ricky snorted, smiling slightly. "I wish the girls I've dated knew my order as well as you do."

"I'm special, and I'm your quasi-uncle. Those girls don't have the VIP pass that I do." Ricky smiled again as Gavin turned to face the others. "There's coffee and scones in those bags. Go ahead and get some." He glanced at the three nurses on duty. "You're included as well. I'm sure you've been doing more these past few hours than any of these lumps." He took his own coffee from Andrea, and the four of them sat down together. "How's your mother?" He drew a handkerchief and a bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket and Andrea's purse, respectively, and threw them to Emily.

The young woman shrugged. "I don't know. They said-" she glanced at Ricky. "They said that they've done everything they can, and now it's "up to her". Isn't that how they phrased it?"

"Yeah." Ricky launched into a more complicated explanation, speckled with medical jargon. "The sooner she wakes up, the better she'll be. Brenda Johnson and her husband are in there now. We've all been taking turns. It sounds harsh, but. . . It's rough staying in that room when she's just laying there, you know?"

Andrea nodded. "She'll be okay. Takes more than a bullet to take Darth Raydor down."

Emily laughed, hiccuping. "Look at this, though. Clipped to her breast pocket." She held out the badge, and Andrea lifted it up to the light as Gavin fell silent.

"Two shots?" Gavin asked. His tone had turned sharper, more serious.

"Yeah."

"Do you think it was a hit?" Andrea glanced up at Sanchez, who was clearly within earshot, even though he was pretending not to hear them.

"Yes, ma'am." He gave up the act and leaned against the wall. "We got the guy, but he hasn't said anything. I don't think he's local, but I do think we'll find pictures of the Captain and some money when we find his car." He caught Rusty's surprised look. "There're thousands of cars in the LAPD garage alone. Even if he parked there, it might be a day before we find his car."

Andrea leaned in slightly and lowered her voice. "Is it possible this is connected to Phillip Stroh again?"

Sanchez nodded. "It's possible. He's done it before. They upped his security, but I don't think it'd be too hard for him to out-fox the prison again. I don't know why he'd wanna do it, though."

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Gavin said. He took a sip of his coffee. "Oh, the entitlement that could come from this, though."

"Gavin!" Andrea smacked his shoulder, frowning. "Not a good time."

"Sorry, but-"

"Yoo-hoo! Excuse me, but I think she's wakin' up." Brenda's curly blonde head poked around the doorway. "An' I know we're friends, but I doubt my face is the first one she wants to see."

There was a massive rush for the door, but the three young Raydors made it into the room first. Sykes glanced back at the nurses' desk. Only two people at a time were supposed to be in the room, but they seemed to have given up upon keeping the entirety of the LAPD's Major Crimes division and their associated lawyers in the hall. Sykes looked away and slipped into the room, pulling the curtain across the windows. They didn't have to go about _blatantly_ breaking the rules.

* * *

><p><em>"Johnson-Howard residence." Brenda held the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she mixed eggs and sugar. Fritz had had a long couple of days, and she had decided to make him a surprise from one of her Mama's cookbooks. She couldn't go too wrong, could she? And she was substituting vegetable oil for butter. Apparently it was healthier. . .<em>

_"Chief?"_

_"Lieutenant Provenza?" She frowned dropping the spoon into the bowl. "What's going on?"_

_There was a pause, then the man answered in his usual gruff manner. "The Captain was shot."_

_It took her a moment to process the words. What captain? None of the boys in her old squad had been promot- "Cap'n Raydor?"_

_"I didn't want you and Age- Very Special Chief Howard to hear about it on the news."_

_"Where are y'all?" At least Provenza was still trying to crack a joke. That was an indicator, in and of itself._

_"They're taking her to Cedars, and we'll be following as soon as we can."_

_"I'll meet you there then. Fritzi and I will get there as soon as we can."_

_"Chief?" He sounded surprised that she'd come._

_She smiled faintly. "She and I got on so much better when she wasn't always following me around, Lieutenant. We go out for-" _What did she call them?_ "Working lunches, from time to time."_

_Provenza hung up a few moments later, and Brenda pushed her bowl into the fridge. She turned towards the bedroom and sighed. Fritz had fallen asleep after lunch. He'd been granted time off to recover from the seemingly endless nights of surveillance he'd undertaken earlier in the week. She may have sent him to bed early, too, seeing as he didn't need any sort of additional stressors. She mostly understood the whole pacemaker thing, but she wasn't about to take any chances with it._

_She walked down the hall and sat on the edge of the bed. Even that light motion woke him slightly._

_"Brenda?" he mumbled._

_She leaned in to kiss him. "Fritzi, Lieutenant Provenza just called."_

_"And what did he want this time?"_

_"He said Cap'n Raydor was shot. It didn't sound good."_

_Fritz frowned, sitting up. "What happened?"_

_"I don't know. We didn't really go into details. I told him I'd meet him at the hospital. I guess they're life-flighting her and the rest of the squad is driving over. I wanted to let you know. You don't have to come; I know you're exhausted."_

_He smiled at her. He never thought he'd say it, but quitting had been good for her. She was still a workaholic, still stashed ding-dongs and cupcakes everywhere, but she was more in the moment, she was more focused on the people around her, rather than just the job. "That's alright. I'll come. Give me five minutes?"_

_"Sure."_

* * *

><p>Rusty watched as Sharon's eyelashes fluttered. It seemed like she was her own drug-fueled Sandman. She'd look like she was starting to wake, and then she'd slip back before repeating the cycle again. After a few tense moments, she finally won out over the morphine and her eyes opened slowly. They watched in silence as she blinked in adagio, before finally opening her eyes fully.<p>

"Hey, Sharon, I need you to try and keep taking deep breaths, okay? It's gonna hurt, so just do what you can." Roxanne was back, fiddling with one of the monitors. "This machine is going to beep at you if your blood O2 drops down too far. If it does that, just take a deep breath. You and it are going to be best friends." She glanced around at the assembled entourage. "Behave and I'll pretend I only saw two of you in here." She stepped back and closed the door when she left.

"Mom?" Emily looked about to cry again.

"Em?" She raised her splinted hand slowly, fingering the oxygen line running across her face and feeling for her glasses.

"Here." Ricky leaned in and carefully slid the plastic frames into place.

She blinked again as her vision sharpened. "Ricky? What-?" Her voice was soft, a few decibels over inaudible, and she was speaking slowly.

"Don't worry about it. Everyone's here."

"Could I have some ice?"

Rusty was confused by the sudden non sequitur, but Ricky seemed to understand. "Yeah-"

"I'll get it." Sykes was still closest to the door.

Ricky caught Rusty's look. "People usually get ice chips right after they wake up, rather than water. Anesthesia makes people sick sometimes, and you're less likely to throw up ice chips, because there's so little actual water in them. Mom's done this enough now that she's gotten the drill down." He smiled, but it was more of a grimace.

"Oh." She'd never said anything about being in a hospital before.

Sharon reached over and patted Rusty's hand. "It's okay. He confuses me, too. All of his. . . engineer talk." She seemed much more relaxed and chatty than usual- than ever, Rusty thought- but no one else seemed concerned, so he assumed it was a normal waking-up-from-surgery thing.

Provenza leaned in and Andrea grinned when she saw what he was holding.

"For you, Captain." He reached down and tied a foil giraffe balloon to the foot of the bed. It had originally read "Happy 1st Birthday," but someone had taken a large sharpie and added two zeroes behind the one.

Sharon snorted and winced slightly, folding her arm around her chest. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

Sykes passed a paper cup of ice and a plastic spoon through the mob, and it eventually reached Emily.

"Here, Mom." Emily used a plastic spoon to give her mother a small bit of crushed ice.

"Thank you," Sharon mumbled around the ice. "What time is it?"

Everyone fumbled for watches, and Flynn got to his first. "Just after five in the morning."

She paused, eyes closing in concentration. "Oh." It was more of a sigh. They watched for her eyes to open again, but she seemed to have fallen asleep again. Her hand fell to her side.

One of the machines shrieked loudly. Rusty jumped back, stumbling into Emily. The noise seemed to have jolted Sharon awake, and she took a breath, rolling her eyes. A moment later, the beeping stopped.

"Captain?" Sanchez stepped closer. "Once you start to shake the anesthesia, you breathe deeper and that thing doesn't go off. That's what I was told last time I was here. Or I can get Tao to turn it off for you. I bet he can do it."

"That's not necessary. . . gentlemen." She was fighting to stay awake. "What happened? I don't. . . remember precisely."

Provenza took the lead again. "Captain, tell me what you do remember."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a sleepy smirk. "The Chief isn't taking this opportunity to interrogate me?"

Provenza was surprised. Even with the light from the hallway, he hadn't thought she would be able to identify all the people in the dim room.

"Don't underestimate the. . . powers of the Wicked Witch, Lieu. . ." she trailed off, leaving them uncertain as to whether she'd addressed him by name or rank.

She had just closed her eyes when the machine squawked at her again. She gave a deep, aggrieved sigh and inhaled again.

"Mom. Wake up. C'mon." Ricky shook her shoulder lightly, and she looked up at him.

Brenda moved in and dropped her black bag on the bed. "Yoo-hoo, hello!"

"Chief."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, I thought we'd moved past that."

"Brenda." Another sigh.

"That's good, Sharon. That's very good." Brenda was already slipping back into her role as the interrogator. "What can you remember?"

"We got a tip. Anon. . . anonymin-"

"Anonymous?"

"Mmm. We all left, together, and someone called me back. I thought maybe I'd dropped something. . ."

"And?" Brenda asked after a prolonged silence.

"I thought I dropped something, and I turned around. Oh, Gavin?" she called suddenly.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I'm afraid I got something all over that watercolor blouse you gave me. With the poppies?"

He smiled sadly. "That's okay. We'll just have to go out shopping again."

"Good. I liked it. Maybe it'll wash clean. . ."

This time, Ricky was already trying to wake her before the machine went off again.

"What?" she snapped.

Ricky glanced up at Brenda. "She's going to fall asleep again, and she'll just get more bent out of shape the longer you keep her up."

"Captain Raydor?" Brenda leaned in. She knew she'd likely get a better response if she called the other woman by rank. "You were shot. Do you remember that?"

"Are you sure? Because I feel just fine."

"That's because you're gettin' some morphine. You're going to hurt tomorrow." Brenda took the woman's battered badge from Emily's outstretched hand and pressed it into Sharon's palm. "This is your badge."

Sharon turned it over clumsily and dropped it. "Did someone run it over?" Her fingers fumbled across her blanket, reaching for the cool metal.

"No, it was on your person when you were shot," Brenda repeated patiently as she nudged the badge back into Sharon's grasp.

"Mmm." She shifted slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go back to bed."

Brenda looked up at Ricky, exasperation clear on her face. The young man shrugged.

"It'll be easier in the morning. She'll probably be able to stay awake pretty well and everything will be more coherent."

"Alright then." Brenda stood and swung her purse over her shoulder. "See you later, Cap'n Raydor."

She shot a pointed look at her former squad, and, one by one, they came forward to say their goodbyes.

Flynn paused next to the three young Raydors. "We'll be back in a few hours, most likely."

Emily shrugged. "She's not going anywhere. Tell everyone to go and get some sleep."

Flynn nodded and left them alone with Gavin and Andrea.

Gavin flopped into a chair, somehow managing to make the action look completely graceful. "So."

"So?" Ricky repeated.

"The three of you should go home, get some sleep. You can't possibly last much longer."

"We'll be fine," Emily told him. "Don't you two have work in the morning?"

Gavin pulled his phone out and began tapping through his calendar. "Nothing until ten, and that can be pushed back."

Andrea shook her head. "I have Friday and the weekend off."

"Aren't we fancy?" Gavin mumbled. ""I have Friday off."" He did a near perfect impersonation of his friend.

Andrea whacked him again. "Now is not the time for your pity party."

He looked up at her, eyes wide. "Some of us actually have to work hard for a living, dear."

Andrea snorted. "Sure. Like getting up for work at ten is hard."

Emily could feel the tension in the room dissolving. Somehow, Gavin and Andrea were always able to unwind the strains of a situation. They had gone through the same sort of routine when Sharon had formally separated from Jack, when Emily broke her arm, and when Rusty had first moved in. Emily had heard about the last occasion over the phone.

Emily scanned the room. It was an ICU room, not meant for overnight visitors. "We probably should go home. There isn't really anywhere to stay here, and we'll be of no use tomorrow if we're all zonked."

"Go home," Gavin said. "Andrea and I need to have a heart-to-heart about not hurting peoples' feelings."

"We'll be back by eight." Emily looked around for confirmation. Her brothers nodded.

"Eight-thirty." Andrea began pushing them towards the door. "Go home. Shower. Sleep. Get some food. Change clothes. Don't come back before nine or I will sic Gavin _and_ your mother on you and tell them to tell you about the importance of sleep, decent nutrition, and hygiene. Gavin is one of the highest-paid arguers in LA, and your mother is pretty decent at it, too."

Ricky raised his hands as they backed away. "We're going." He turned serious. "But really, thanks for staying."

"No problem."

"You'll call if-"

"I'm sure everything will be fine, but I will call you if anything changes."

Gavin came up behind Andrea. "She's out cold. Don't worry. Go. Home. I love you. Goodbye." He shut the door and the curtain swished closed a second later.

Emily turned to her brothers, only one by blood, but both by love. "I guess we're going home."


	6. Emily

_**Sorry, it's a short one. It's the right place to break. Next one will be up soon.**_

Rusty directed them. The other two would have eventually found their way home in the dark, but he knew the most direct route. They parked underground, took the stairs to the lobby, and the elevator to the eleventh floor. Rusty unlocked Sharon's door, and they all walked in together, turning on the lights as they went.

"Can I call first dibs on the shower?" Emily asked.

"Only if you don't take forever," Ricky replied.

"Promise." She made her way down the hall and turned in to her mother's room. She closed the door, and Rusty could hear her moving around the room.

Ricky looked at him. "What do we do now?"

"Umm. . . food and a movie?" He was too keyed up to sleep, and he hoped Ricky didn't want to go to bed right then.

"Sounds great. I don't think I could sleep." Ricky toed his shoes off and padded into the kitchen. "What do you eat? There's only her weird food in here."

"We needed to go shopping." He joined Ricky at the fridge. They both peered into it, trying to find something acceptable. There was white wine, arugula, leftover whole-wheat pasta, hummus, and a bunch of fruit and vegetables.

Ricky sighed. "Are there bananas and toast?"

"Yeah."

"Wanna start making toast? I'll eat it however you make it, but Emily likes it black and smoking." He turned to riffle through the cabinets. "I did this all the time when we were out of normal people food. She's always got chocolate chips, and there's usually marshmallows around." He caught Rusty's bemused expression. "It's her dirty little secret. She'd come home late sometimes, like three in the morning late, and make hot chocolate with more marshmallows than cocoa." He found his prizes and held them up. "Got it."

Rusty pulled the butter from the fridge and started the toast. "Hot water?"

"Yeah."

They moved through the kitchen easily. Rusty made toast and heated the water. He watched as Ricky took three bananas, sliced them down the middle, and filled them with chocolate and marshmallows before microwaving them.

"One of the few good things I learned from my dad."

They gathered the dishes and mugs and moved everything to the coffee table in front of the TV. Sharon would have throttled them if she could have seen it.

"What should we watch?" Rusty asked.

Ricky looked at the shelf of movies below the screen. "Her collection appears to be a mixture of chick flicks, foreign mysteries, sci-fi, and explosive adventure. I take it you're the one adding all the cool stuff to her collection?"

"If you mean the stuff that came out within the last decade and is in English, then yeah."

"Good. Riddick sound okay?"

"Sure."

They had just started when Emily came back out. Her hair was pulled up in a soggy bun, and she was wearing her mother's pajamas, a very tasteful pinstriped set.

"Shower's all yours."

No one moved to get up. They stayed sprawled in the living room with a mess of pillows and blankets.

It was nice, Rusty thought, to have people he could count on, people who cared, and even liked the same crappy food he liked. He hadn't expected Ricky and Emily to accept him so easily. Ricky had been more than hesitant at first. Rusty had overheard numerous phone conversations between the young man and his mother, Sharon clearly defending Rusty's raison d'être. They had gotten quite heated from time to time, and more than one ended with Sharon slamming her phone down in rare displays of temper.

Ricky seemed to be coming around, though, and Rusty was grateful to have another friend. Ally? Brother? He didn't know exactly, and together they were a strange wolfpack, but a tight one, nonetheless.

* * *

><p><em>Emily leaned in closer to the mirror, her face whitewashed by the bare bulbs all around it. Her phone began ringing just as she touched her fake lashes to the glue along her eyelid. With practiced ease, she held everything in place with a finger and picked up the phone with her other hand.<em>

_"'Lo?"_

_"Am I speaking to Emily Raydor?"_

_"Yes," Emily released the lash, frowning as she carefully pressed the other set of lashes to their respective eyelid. "May I ask who's calling?"_

_"This is Lieutenant Mike Tao, from the LAPD. Your m-"_

_Emily stopped breathing. It was the call she had been dreading ever since she'd first understood why her mother carried a gun to work. "Oh my God." Someone turned to look at her._

_"Emily? Did you hear me? Your mother's been shot. We're booking you a flight as I speak. How soon can you be at JFK?"_

_"I. . . I. . . an hour? I think? Oh my God."_

_"Emily, I can get you on a five o'clock flight, your time. Will that work?"_

_"Yeah, yeah." She began throwing her makeup into her bag, cramming her canvas slippers and pointe shoes on top. Where was her wallet? She had come in tights, her nude liner, and a sweater, so there weren't any other clothes, really. The last few items were buried under someone's tutu, and she dropped them into her bag as she half-ran from the dressing room._

_"I'll e-mail the confirmation to your phone, okay?"_

_"Sure." She hung up and ran past the corp dancers, warming up in the halls. "Rosemarie!" Someone pointed her in the right direction, and a moment later, she nearly slammed into the manager of all the ABT dancers._

_"Emily?" The older woman was surprised. "What's wrong?"_

_"My mother-" Emily gasped. "My mom- I have to go home-"_

_"Em?" Rosemarie gripped the girl's arms. "What's wrong?" she repeated firmly._

_"My mom's been shot. She's a cop in LA, and I don't know if-"_

_"Go." It was a command. "Go. I'll get all the paperwork done. This constitutes a family emergency. Don't worry about anything. Call me when you've got time, and I'll get it all worked out."_

_"Thank you." Emily hugged her, and then spun away, crashing through the exit only door and out into the evening noise of the city._

* * *

><p>It was almost eight-thirty when Emily Raydor woke up. She was stretched across the floor with her head on a pillow near Ricky and her feet on Rusty's back. She reached for her phone, clicking the home button to wake it. There were no missed calls, but a text from Andrea, who was entered in Emily's contacts as 'Auntdrea.'<p>

_All is well here. Gavin is getting food. Getting some for you guys, too. The patient is not awake yet, but I'm fully expecting her to be kicking and screaming pretty soon. Do NOT get here before 9:01._

Emily rolled to her feet and picked her way over the boys, returning to her mother's room. She had emptied her bag over the bed the night before, and she pawed through the contents, repacking what she needed for the day.

Wallet, keys, phone, headphones, a paperback book_. _She left her canvas slippers, pointe shoes, and clothes from the previous day on the bed.

She threw open the doors to her mother's closet, thankful they were roughly the same size. It took her a while to find something that wasn't a formal suit, an expensive sheath dress, or a navy blue uniform. She pulled the dress uniform out and fingered the ribbons and the two captain's bars. The nameplate was perfectly centered on the right pocket, and there was a thin, elastic strap over her left breast where she'd clip her badge. Emily pushed the uniform back into place and continued her search.

Eventually she decided on jeans, a vee-neck tee that was in the far back corner, and a pair of deep violet heels. She'd been dying to borrow the shoes ever since her mom had bought them. She pulled the clothes on, grabbed her cardigan and walked back out to the living room.

Evidently, she'd made enough noise to wake the boys up, for they were both yawning and trying to clean up some of the mess they'd made.

"Hey."

There was an indistinct reply from both of them.

"What?"

"Might wanna comb your hair," Ricky said again.

She ran her hand over her head and found bedhead similar to the hairstyle of the Scottish Disney princess. "Want any help first?"

"We got it," Rusty mumbled. "Go ahead."

She went back to the bathroom and found her mother's comb. After a few minutes' struggle, she wrangled her hair into a semblance of a French braid. She returned to the sofa again and spent a few minutes checking Instagram, Twitter, and her texts as Rusty and Ricky changed clothes and freshened up.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Why are you so awake?" Rusty voiced it, but she could see it on Ricky's face, too.

"I am not a teenager, nor do I work forty-eight hour shifts. Ballet starts at eight most mornings." She watched them a moment more. "I'll drive."


	7. Trust

_**A/N- If I have to write "intrachrmosomal recombination" one more time, Sharon Raydor herself is going to come and arrest me because someone is going to die. What do you guys think so far? Thank you everyone for the reviews, especially murphycat and Nevada11 for repeated encouragement.**_

Sharon squeezed her eyes against the light and raised a hand to cover them. Then her hand tangled with her face, and something poked her nose. She sneezed and gasped as her chest burned.

Suddenly, there were cool fingers on her face, untangling the IV port from the nasal cannula and smoothing her hair away.

"Not the most graceful awakening I've seen. I'm sorry, but I've seen gang-bangers wake up more elegantly." Andrea smiled. "Either way, I'm glad you're up."

"Have you been here the whole time?" The words came out in a rough mumble. Nonetheless, her head felt clearer and she was definitely more alert then she remembered being.

"Most of it. Don't worry about it. Gavin and I found some good movies on TV."

"Thank you."

"Of course. Gavin's out getting food, but he and your spawn will arrive soon. Don't laugh," she added sharply, seeing the amusement in Sharon's eyes. "It'll hurt like hell."

Sharon sobered somewhat. "What happened? I remember leaving Parker Center, and. . . and the actual event. Brenda was here last night, and the kids, too. And Provenza? I remember that I talked to them, but I don't remember what was said." She fingered the bandage on her hand thoughtfully. "What did I do?"

Andrea sat down on the side of the bed. "I was talking to your lieutenants last night and the nurse when she made rounds this morning. As far as I can gather, you got shot just under your ribs." She paused and tried to remember the details. She explained as best she could, and then reached for the little rolling table. "There was a second shot, but it was deflected by your badge." She passed it to Sharon and watched as the other woman ran her fingers over the damage. "Even Gavin is convinced you had a guardian angel. All that bullet left was the motherload of bruising." She watched Sharon close her good hand around her badge. "And you fell, I guess. That's where the splint is from. There were some small fractures and a really mild concussion. They didn't really seem worried, though, so I guess it's nothing too bad."

Sharon set the badge down and pulled the neck of her hospital gown out so she could look down at her chest. Mottled bruising in every shade between magenta and indigo spread all the way from the bottom of her rib cage to her collarbones. "No laughing, duly noted."

Andrea looked up and Sharon pulled the gown down slightly. "Oh my God. Shar!" she yelped as the other woman poked the bruises with one finger. "Stop it."

"It doesn't hurt."

"Yeah, that's probably because they're shooting restricted, prescription painkillers into your veins as we speak." Andrea reached out and pinned Sharon's hand down. "How do you feel?"

"All things considered, pretty good. Sore, but not too bad. I think it might be a different story if I try getting up, but, for now, not bad."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "We brought some clothes over last night, if you want them."

"Do you have a sweater in there?"

"Yeah." Andrea pulled a long, loose, grey boyfriend sweater out of her bag. "Here." She paused. "I don't think we can get it over your IV." They had taken the catheter in her left arm out during the night, after they'd finished transfusing blood, but the right one was was still there.

"Just drape it over my arm as best you can then, please." Sharon managed to get her left arm through the sleeve, and then Andrea helped her sit up enough to swing the sweater across her back. Even the small action clearly hurt. She leaned back again with Andrea's hand bracing her. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. You've helped me out enough in the past several years; let me help you."

The quiet was interrupted as Gavin burst past the curtain, the blue fabric swirling around him like a cape. "Sleeping Beauty awakes!" he cried. "How are you feeling?" He set his bags down and swept around the bed before she could speak. "You look much better now." He pushed a stray strand of hair back from her forehead.

"I'm glad I can count on you to maintain my image while I'm in the hospital," Sharon said wryly.

He laughed. "Can't have the LAPD's most ravishing Captain be seen in public with-" he gasped theatrically. "- bedhead!"

She rolled her eyes, smiling, recalling Andrea's warning about laughing. "Thank you for your concern, Counselor."

Gavin's next words, undoubtedly a snarky reply, were cut off by the reappearance of Ricky, Emily, and Rusty.

"Sharon!" Rusty managed to get to the woman first and was a few inches away from hugging her when he froze. She smiled at him and carefully gathered him into her arms. She made room for Ricky and Emily when they came over.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, Ricky."

"Doing okay?" He deliberately kept his tone light. He knew she could handle the tough questions, but he didn't know if the rest of them could.

"I think so. Certainly much better than last night."

"Good."

They were interrupted, once again, by a pair of nurses. They were both unfamiliar, one an older woman and the other a young man.

The woman raised her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure I count more than two visitors in here."

Gavin flashed her his most charming smile. "I must have miscounted. I apologize with all my heart."

"Save it for the jury," she said. Nevertheless, her expression softened. "Mrs. Raydor, we're here to move you downstairs, to the regular surgical wing."

"Oh." She seemed surprised. Rusty wasn't sure if it was because she was being moved or because she'd been called 'Mrs. Raydor.'

"Okay," she said a moment later. "Will someone tell everyone else that we're moving?"

The nurses seemed confused, but the two lawyers knew what she meant.

"Darling, I am dialing your squad as we speak." Gavin spun away on one heel, tapping his touchscreen phone with a long finger.

"Gavin, it's early!"

He glanced back. "Sharon, dear, I sincerely believe that they're all awake. I doubt any of them slept last night."

She winced. "I hope that's untrue."

Gavin sighed and walked all the way back to her as everyone watched, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Louie Provenza probably slept just fine, but one Andrew Flynn was tossing and turning all night. I'd stake my next paycheck on it."

"Gavin Quentin Baker!"

She made as if to smack his shoulder, but he grinned wickedly and walked away, out of her limited reach, dialing a number as he went.

"Yes, hellooo Lieutenant! Mm, yes, Brenda's lawyer. Not exclusively hers, but yes. No, I was calling to tell you. . ." he wandered out the door.

Sharon sighed and looked at Andrea. "He didn't used to be that bad, did he?"

"Mom," Emily stepped back as the nurses began to disconnect the monitors and shut them down. "You must have whacked your head pretty hard. Uncle Gavin's _always_ been that bad." She snorted, crossing her arms. "Remember that time he got a speeding ticket and he called you and-"

"Not everyone needs to hear that story," Sharon cut in quickly.

Rusty's expression was caught between incredulity and sheer glee. "Did you get him out of a ticket?"

Sharon was saved from answering as her two nurses brought a wheelchair over to the edge of the bed and began to rearrange the IV pole, effectively cutting off the conversation.

"Can I drive the chair?" Ricky looked perfectly serious until he was granted permission, and then he grinned widely. "Rusty, come on. We need to have a discussion." He turned back to the others briefly. "I am a computer engineer. I think I can work a wheelchair. You can trust me. We will meet you downstairs in five minutes." With that, he pulled the wheelchair back on two wheels and spun out of the room, Rusty trotting behind him.

The two nurses looked aghast, but Andrea shrugged. "Every thing he said was true. Come on."

* * *

><p>Rusty had to step quickly to keep up with Ricky.<p>

"Ricky, what are you doing?" Sharon tried to crane around to look at him, but couldn't quite manage the motion.

"Mom, sit still. I don't want you falling out of the chair."

Rusty was somewhat alarmed, but Sharon merely shot her son a dark look and settled in for the ride.

"So, is Rusty short for something?" Ricky asked.

"Russell."

"Russell Beck. Okay. Tell me the five most important things about yourself, Russell Beck."

"_Ricky_-"

"It's okay, Sharon," Rusty cut her off. He didn't really blame Ricky for wanting to know more about him, and although the young man's method seemed unorthodox, he wasn't unkind. "Um, I like chess. I'm almost done with high school. I-" he paused for only a second. "I was a witness in a case against this wackjob murderer-lawyer last year. It got kinda freaky, and uh, your mom saved my life, like, _a ton_ of times, even if she says she didn't do anything."

Ricky seemed to take it all in stride, and Rusty suspected Sharon had already told her son everything he'd just said.

"That's only four."

"Uh. . ."

"What do you want to go to college for?"

"I. . . don't know yet. There's a lot of stuff and I'm not sure what I'm good at, other than evading security details."

Sharon snorted and pressed a hand to her side. "That is not a professional option, I'm afraid."

"If you could, would you want to stick around with us?" Ricky asked.

Rusty glanced sideways, but Ricky's face gave away nothing. "I'd like to, if I could."

"Why?"

There were so many reasons. "I think both parties benefit," he said diplomatically. He wasn't sure how to explain.

Ricky chuckled. "Mom, you're rubbing off on him. But really, don't worry about offending me," he added.

"I think, I think Sharon's been the best family I've ever had, and I kinda love her," the words came out in a quiet rush, tangled together in a big snarl of feelings. Rusty could feel his face heating up.

There was a brief silence, and he began to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing when Ricky spoke.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, that's about as decent a reason as anything. Mom trusts you all the way, and- don't take this the wrong way- I'll have to get to know you a little better before I can pass judgment. We're headed in the right direction, though."

"Okay." Rusty still wasn't exactly sure how to respond, but he seemed to have passed the first of whatever tests Sharon's son had set up for him.

"Ricky, that's enough." Sharon's voice was soft but commanding.

Her son was silent as they continued towards the elevators. They rounded the corner just as the doors were closing. Someone started to reach out to hold the doors, but Ricky waved them back.

"We'll catch the next one." He drew to a stop and grinned wolfishly. "Guess we have some more time to kill. So, Rusty..."

Sharon sighed. 


	8. Potatoes and Stilettos

_**A/N- TGIF, guys. TGIF.**_

Flynn dropped into a chair next to Provenza outside the room number Gavin had told them and kicked his feet out in front of him. The older man glanced up from his crossword.

"Have you actually been home yet? Or did you spent the rest of the night sitting outside her room?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Hobbs and her friend what's-his-face are better than a pair of German shepherds." Flynn sounded mildly annoyed. "I left about, I dunno, five-thirty, maybe."

"Good for them." Provenza flicked his newspaper up again. He looked up after a few moments to find Flynn staring at him. "What?"

"Where is everyone? I thought-"

"Sykes and Sanchez are being interviewed by your Captain's former squad, as our shooter is now shrieking 'police brutality' in an effort to buy time. Tao will get here eventually, as will Buzz. You're the only one interested in showing up the moment Baker calls."

"You're here. And she's not _my_ _Captain_."

Provenza snorted. "I'm not so sure. I only showed up here because I knew you were going to be here, and I have nothing better to do than keep you from embarrassing yourself. FID and SIS have custody of her case, since we obviously can't investigate."

"What about the Matthews case?"

"Were we getting anywhere with that yesterday? No. And it might potentially be connected to this, so Taylor is taking it over."

"Oh." Flynn sat back, finally out of ammunition. "Are her kids here, yet?"

"They got here about an hour ago. From what I've gathered from Hobbs, the boy is giving Rusty the third degree on everything."

As he spoke, the door burst open, and the three kids stumbled out into the hall, Gavin behind them.

"Shoo, out! Your mother needs to sleep. She does not need Trivial Pursuit: Russell Beck Edition in her room. Take your game elsewhere." The lawyer neatly snapped the door closed behind Emily.

The three Raydors looked at the each other.

Provenza raised his eyebrows. "It was only a matter of time."

Emily moaned. "We only just got here. Ricky, you moron, you have the brain of a cheese sandwich." She rolled her eyes and collapsed gracefully into a chair. "And knowing Gavin, it's going to be _hours_ before he lets us back in."

Flynn watched the display with amusement. The lawyer apparently held quite a bit of sway in Sharon's family.

"Maybe 'Drea'll let us back in sooner," Ricky said.

"Yeah, right. _Casse-toi._"

Flynn missed the last word, but it was apparently some insult, because Ricky's mouth dropped, and he fired something back.

_"Mange de la merde et muers!" _Ricky raised his eyebrows and grinned at his sister."See? I told you I could remember it."

Flynn shot a look at his partner. Sharon's kids appeared to be cussing each other out in a different language. Even Provenza looked impressed.

Emily rolled her eyes again and explained. "I learned a bunch of French in school, and some of the girls I dance with speak it. Ricky only learned the swear words."

"I don't need anything else, you potato."

At this, Provenza set his paper down and glared at them. "Did your mother not teach you anything halfway decent IN ENGLISH?"

Rusty finally cut in. "She doesn't like swearing."

"I daresay I've heard her drop a few choice words," the lieutenant replied.

The door was thrown open again.

"For the love of God and Italian stilettos!" Gavin burst out into the hall. "Believe it or not, but we can hear each and every one of your dance-hall profanities. Your mother says to stop arguing or she'll have you escorted back home by uniforms, and she'll have them posted at the door so that you cannot leave."

"She'll do it," Rusty said quickly.

"Can't we stay here?" Emily asked. "I promise we- "

"No. You've been here- " Gavin paused to glance at his watch. "For over an hour already. She's still on morphine, and I'm pretty sure she's going to fall asleep again. Go back home, get a decent meal, and you two boys can shower. You are as rank as a pair of wet dogs." He anticipated the next question with stunning accuracy. "I will call you if she falls asleep, wakes up, changes her morphine dosage, is moved, or if anyone who isn't wearing a gold badge peeks in." He stepped out of the doorway to close the door and lean against it. "Shoo."

After several more minutes of assorted grumbling, pleading, and threats to do harm to someone's wardrobe, Sharon's children finally left.

Flynn looked up at the lawyer, who glanced down with a grin.

"She was all worried about them bothering Rusty," Gavin said. "After about ten minutes of debate, I could tell he was going to be fine. That boy would make a fine lawyer if he wanted to. Very precise and he takes notice of every word that's said. He thinks everything is directed at him, but that's an easy problem to fix."

"God, the last thing we need is yet another lawyer descending on our murder room," Provenza muttered. "First Hobbs and Michaels, then you, Rios. . . Don't you get Rusty tangled in that."

Gavin snorted. "Don't worry. He's a mama's boy for now." He sighed lightly, switching topics. "You two are welcome to come in."

"I thought you said-" Flynn trailed off.

"Those three were up all night and likely most of the night before, knowing them as I do. Netflix and shows and work." He shook his head. "They need to get some actual sleep and food. I bet you they ordered take-out last night. They are truly their mother's children. They'll get little enough sleep after she gets home." He swept the door open again. "_She_ on the other hand is fighting to get out of here and 'Drea and I could use some assistance in pinning her down."

Flynn and Provenza stood and followed him into the room.

The blinds were open, and sunlight streamed in. The television was off, and there was a small duffle bag on the table in the corner, with clothes strewn across it. Paper coffee cups and muffin papers intermingled with everything.

Sharon was sitting up in bed, a sweater haphazardly draped over her shoulders. She was talking with Andrea, and they were clearly arguing about something.

As the men stepped closer, Flynn tried not to laugh.

"No, you cannot go 'for a walk.'" Andrea looked faintly horrified.

"Getting up and walking around is good for healing. I did it last time-"

"Yes, and last time, it was your shoulder, not your spleen and your lungs and God knows what else."

Sharon shot her friend a dark look, before waving a hand at her lieutenants. "Andy came back to work the day after he was in a knife fight."

He held up his hands as Andrea's gaze swiveled to him. "I'm going to plead the fifth."

Gavin dropped onto Sharon's bed, and she winced at the motion. "Darling, we love you, and we know your penchant for recklessness."

She sighed and slowly eased back. "Maybe we could try this afternoon then."

Andrea looked over. _Do you see what we mean?_ was clearly written on her face.

Sharon ignored her and turned to Flynn and Provenza for further questioning.

"I take it Taylor is handling my case?"

Provenza stared at her. "Look. . . Sharon. . . it's not even been twenty four hours yet. Take a breather; enjoy your time off."

The look she shot him could have frozen salt water.

"It's not like I'm going to do anything. I would just appreciate being informed." She sounded perfectly composed when she spoke, leading the room's newest occupants to correctly assume that the drip in her hand was indeed morphine.

Flynn glanced at Provenza and sighed. "Okay, fine. Look, we'll keep you 'informed' as long as you don't try to break yourself out of here."

"Or con Rusty into helping you," Provenza added. "Or Sykes for that matter. I don't think she'd help, but then again. . ."

She rolled her eyes again, and they could tell her patience was wearing thin. "I won't leave here AMA. At least not without serious consideration of any consequences."

Gavin sighed. "I'll hold you to that." He looked at the lieutenants. "I'm afraid that's the best you'll get from her. She's been exceedingly impossible today."

"Since when is she not?" Provenza muttered. Nonetheless, he took a seat next to Sharon's bed and flipped open the manila file he carried. She reached for it, but he pulled it back. "Ah, ah. No. You don't get all the details. You know the rules, Captain, and you can't involve yourself in your own case without seriously jeopardizing its legitimacy."

"You're involved."

"Only peripherally. This-" he waved the file. "-is an abbreviated and censored version of what Taylor is working with. But before I tell you what _is_ in here, I have to ask you some questions."

Sharon fell back into her pillow, frowning, first in annoyance, then in pain as she jolted herself. "What are they?"

"Taylor has a list of questions for us to ask you. He felt that us interviewing you was fine as long as we record it and there's at least one third-party witness." He pulled a small audio recorder out and set it on the bedside table, then turned it on.

"This is Wednesday, August thirteenth, twenty-fourteen, LAPD Lieutenant Provenza interviewing Captain Sharon Raydor, in regards to a shooting yesterday afternoon. Time is-" he glanced at his watch. "Ten-thirty-seven."

"Also present are Lieutenant Andrew Flynn; Gavin Baker, Esquire, acting as the Captain's legal council; and Deputy District Attorney Andrea Hobbs," Andrea added.

Provenza flipped his notebook open and clicked his pen. "What were you doing Tuesday afternoon?"

Sharon closed her eyes. "I was at Parker Center. We- Major Crimes- were working a case that had carried over from the weekend. I can't recall the case number-"

"That's fine."

"We got a tip. I think it came to Lieutenant Flynn's phone. It was a woman, I guess. She refused to tell us her name but said she'd meet us at her workplace. We hadn't had any breaks all day, so we decided to all go and follow up."

"You didn't leave anyone behind?"

"No. Chief Taylor's crew was working our tip line, and they would connect any seemingly legitimate calls to us. And everyone needed some air. It wasn't exactly regulation, but I thought a break would do everyone some good."

"What happened when you left? As best you can recall."

"Mmm. We walked out the main entrance into the courtyard. I think I was in the back, but I'm not sure. Someone called my name, and I turned around. I thought I might have dropped something. And then there was. . . a man and a flash. . . and I remember seeing the sky and Andy- Lieutenant Flynn. And. . ." she shook her head slightly. "I don't know. I think Mike- Lieutenant Tao- was there. I'm sorry but I can't definitively recall anything else." Her face had paled as she spoke, and she pulled her blanket up over her legs as she finished.

"Flynn? What can you add?"

The man looked down, as if embarrassed. "That all sounds right with what I remember. It all happened so fast. The dirtbag shot her, and she just stood there. I tried to catch her when she fell. Sykes and Sanchez went after the guy when he bolted. Tao and I tried to put pressure on her. I guess someone called 911, and they told us they were getting a life-flight. You- uh, Lieutenant Provenza was holding his jacket up over us. They landed a helicopter in the courtyard, I guess because it was faster than an ambulance." He paused. "I was on the helicopter with her, and-" he stopped again. "You don't remember any of this?" he asked Sharon.

She looked curious. "No. I don't think so."

He looked towards Provenza. "I don't know if I should keep going."

Sharon reached over and waved her hand at them. "I'm right here. I want to hear this."

Flynn frowned, but continued at Provenza's nod. "In the helicopter, you. . . you coded."

"What?" Sharon looked shocked as silence fell.

Flynn gritted his teeth. "They shocked you a couple of times before they got you back."

Her face had gone chalk white. "I wasn't informed."

"For God's sake, Captain, I don't think your doctor would have particularly wanted to greet you with that little tidbit," Provenza growled, breaking his fourth wall. "That's not what _I'd_ want to hear." He sighed. "This interview is being paused at. . . ten-fifty. It will be continued at a later time." He slapped the recorder off. "You need to get better, and this sure as hell isn't helping."

"Are there _any _leads?" she pressed.

"Captain. Sharon. You are-" Provenza sighed. "You're the victim of this case, and we can't let victims run the investigation. I'm sorry, actually sorry, but I cannot help you. You wrote the rulebook, and you worked it for decades. You know this."

She pursed her lips. "I want you to keep me in the loop, though. I'm going to figure out what you're doing. I will call Taylor, or Pope-"

"I'll tell them not to take your calls."

"-and Rusty can't keep newspapers and my laptop away from me indefinitely. You know as well as I that this will be in the _Times._"

"We'll keep you in the dark as long as we can. You need to recover."

She sighed and leaned back. "How about a deal?"

"Oh, God. Here we go," Provenza muttered.

"I will refrain from interfering with your investigation or asking undue questions, or trying to get a hold of a paper if you keep me partially informed. I insist upon being informed of new leads, but you need only tell me about things that are concrete."

He was silent for a long minute, glancing at Flynn. "Fine," he burst out. "I'll do it, dammit."

"Good." She smiled brightly. "So. Where is the investigation now?"

Provenza growled and rolled his eyes.

"You made a deal," she said cheerily.

"Yeah, yeah." He looked at Flynn, who merely shrugged unhelpfully. "We haven't gotten anywhere with the shooter, really. We ran his prints through AFIS, and he came up as Chris Angier, with warrants out for his arrest, one for felony assault and one for counterfeiting. So we've got him put away, no problem, but no idea why."

"Has anyone-"

"Gone through your old FID cases? Yeah, Taylor's on it. So far, nothing."

"Even the unsolved ones?"

"He started with those."

"Even the Chief- Brenda. Brenda hasn't gotten anywhere?"

Provenza raised his eyebrows. "Did you hit your head, Captain? She's not a law enforcement officer, so she can't touch that interview."

Sharon closed her eyes, shifting position slightly. "You could swear her in as a citizen officer." She shifted again, and this time Gavin came to her side, hand brushing over her shoulder.

"Are you okay, love?"

She grimaced slightly. "Yes. It just aches."

"Where?"

Her eyes cracked open and she shot him a look. "Last I recall, your degree is in law, not medicine."

"My degree is in getting people to tell me the truth," he replied archly.

She huffed faintly. "Where do you think? I'm fine, I promise."

The room's four other occupants snorted almost in unison.


	9. Dogged

_**A/N- Here's a longer one, I think. I'll post the next one after I finish some lab stuff. Have fun, enjoy, and don't forget to kick back and relax from time to time. I love all y'all.**__**  
><strong>_

It was five days later that Sharon was finally released. True to her earlier predictions, news of the story had come out in the local paper. She had gotten ahold of one of them, and was relieved to find that, although the story included her formal LAPD photo, it was several pages down from A1.

She was wheeled to the exit, and slowly gimped her way to where Rusty was waiting with the car. The backseat held only her overnight bag. Ricky and Emily had driven her car home with the flowers and cards that had flooded in over the week. She was to stay home the remainder of the week and then to only resume desk duty when she returned to Parker Center.

"Rusty?"

He glanced over at his adoptive mother. She was still paler than usual, and moving slowly, but she had regained some of her spark. The scrape on her cheek stood out like too much pink blush, and she looked tired, but otherwise not too poorly.

"Yeah?"

"Could we stop-"

"No, I'm supposed to take you home."

"Rusty, you haven't-"

"Look, Sharon, I just got on Ricky's good side, and I'm _not_ going to ruin that by taking you to work."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll call. I think my authority overrules his." She slid her phone out of her pocket and slowly unlocked it and called her son.

Rusty tried to keep his concentration solely on the road.

"Ricky? Oh, yes, everything is fine. No, no. I'm just going to have Rusty- No. No, my authority- No, I- _I override you. _I am going to Parker Center. No, just for a little while. No. No. No, do not come and get me. No, _do not_ call Lieutenant Provenza. Or Gavin. Don't you dare. I will disinherit you. I will just be there for a little while. Mmhmm. Cook dinner or something, then. I love you. Okay." She turned to Rusty. "Parker Center, please."

"I'm not your chauffeur," he grumbled. Nonetheless, he moved into the left lane and headed downtown.

The silence bordered on uncomfortable, so he switched the radio on.

_"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose, fire away, fire-"_

He promptly slapped it off.

A muffled giggle startled him. Sharon had one hand pressed to her side, but she was wearing a wide grin, and was laughing quietly.

"It's okay, honey." She reached over and turned the radio back on at a low volume. "I'm going to take humor where I can get it."

They pulled up in the front several minutes later. Sharon directed Rusty to the visitor parking, after adamantly refusing to be dropped at the front door. He parked in the nearest open spot, and then raced around the car to get her door.

She got out slowly, being careful not to jounce her bad wrist. Rusty closed her door, locked the car, and gripped her arm to help her balance. It wasn't like she couldn't, but she walked so slowly that it worried him, and every so often she pressed her hand to her side where he knew the stitches were.

They were almost to the front door when she paused briefly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. I just needed to catch my breath." By the time she had finished the sentence, she had left Rusty behind, and he scrambled to catch up.

"I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Rusty," she said gently. "It'll be fine, I promise."

He made a noncommittal noise and held her arm with one hand and pulled the heavy glass door open with his free hand and a foot. As they walked in, he prayed that one of her bosses would be there and force her to go home. She had to listen to them, right?

As it was, no one stopped their slow progress across the lobby. He supposed they just looked like normal people. He was wearing his usual shirt and jeans, and she was in jeans, a black jacket, and a light blouse that was bunched just below her elbow- her wrist now in a fiberglass cast- and hid most of the bruising.

The man guarding the hall to the elevators stopped them, and Sharon pulled her credentials out of her pocket. He glanced them over, then looked up sharply.

"Captain Raydor?"

She smiled.

"I didn't recognize you from your picture in the paper. I'm glad you're back. We were all praying for you."

She looked surprised. "Thank you."

He grinned as he waved them through. "We protect our own. You're part of the family in blue, ma'am."

After they were in the elevator, Sharon shot Rusty a wry look. "I can assure you I was the crazy aunt that everyone was scared of for the better part of my career."

He snorted. "I don't believe that."

She wrinkled her nose at him, clearly amused, although this time she didn't laugh. She had learned quickly not to after Andrea's first warning, and tried to keep the giggles to a minimum.

A moment later, they arrived at the seventh floor, the elevator doors opening to reveal marigold orange walls. Much to Sharon's relief, no one was in the hall. Rusty was pleased, too. He still hadn't thought of a good way to defend himself from the inevitable "Why in God's name did you let her out of bed?" that was coming his way.

She led the way down the hall. Rusty followed just behind, eyes on her black flats. He was unashamed to admit he was using her as a shield.

The normal buzz of the murder room didn't stop when she pushed through the door, so she stood there until someone finally looked up.

"Captain!" It was Sykes.

Provenza's head snapped up. "You aren't supposed to be here for another week."

"Hey, kid, I thought you were supposed to take her home." This was Flynn, with a distinctly annoyed expression.

"I tried!"

"Calm down, calm down. You all know how pigheaded she is," Provenza said loudly.

Sharon smiled. "Thank you."

"That doesn't mean I want you here, though."

"I just thought I'd drop by. I've got three full-time babysitters at home, and they're going to be there for the next several days."

"You just got out of the hospital!" Flynn burst out.

Sanchez sat down on Tao's desk. "I think you win second place, ma'am."

She frowned. "Pardon?"

"Both times I was out, I took a full week. Sykes took a full week when she was out. You had five days. Flynn came back the next day after he was stabbed."

She snorted. "I see." She stepped forward again, and, in an uncommon show of kindness, Provenza gracefully gave his chair up and rolled it over to her.

"If you're going to be here, then you sit down."

She sat, willing to give ground for once. "Where are we on the case?"

"You are not on this case," Provenza told her sharply. "You cannot be on this case."

"I am your commanding officer, and I have a right to be informed of ongoing cases in my absence."

"You are the victim, Captain. I'm sorry to say that, but it's true. Besides, what about our deal?"

She shot him an icy look. "I need to be informed."

"No."

"I will go to the Chief."

"Do you really think Taylor is going to tell you anything?"

"I'll go to Pope," she said quickly.

"Who's going to Pope?" Taylor drawled as he stepped into the room. He was in his blue uniform, straightening the ribbons on his chest as he walked.

"Speak of the devil," Provenza grumbled. He moved back to better see the show that was about to begin.

Sharon spun the chair around and nodded to the man politely. "Chief Taylor."

"Captain, I thought you were supposed to be out-" he sputtered.

"I just dropped by for a little while. I need to catch up on my cases."

He caught on faster than expected. His eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Captain, I'm not going to grant you permission to have full disclosure of your case. Is that what you were going to come see me about?"

She raised her eyebrows. "I believe, that as a commanding officer, I should be kept informed of any cases that are ongoing in my absence."

Taylor looked over to Provenza and sighed. "You know, I actually kind of miss the days when you just worked in FID and did everything completely by the letter."

"Are you suggesting I'm not, Chief?" There was a dangerous tone in her voice.

Another sigh. "I'm saying that now you're. . . a little bit more free-thinking and that Flynn and Provenza seem to have rubbed off on you a little."

"I see."

"Besides that, Captain, you should be at home."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you for your concern, Chief, but I still need to give my formal statement."

Rusty noted the cat-in-the-cream look on Sharon's face as she played her trump card.

Taylor sighed once again. "Fine. Give your statement, then go home."

"Yes, sir."

He paused on his way out the door. "And Captain? I'm glad you're here, but there is a commissioners' tour coming through the building later today."

As his footsteps faded, Provenza looked down at Sharon. "I think that's his way of telling you that he doesn't want anyone to see you around here again."

"I guess we had better get started, then."

Provenza glanced around the room. "Sanchez, you're with me. Captain, go get a cup of tea or something while we set up and we'll meet you in Interview One."

"Yes sir." She slowly got up from the chair and made her way down the hall. Buzz followed her to start setting up the interview.

Rusty waited for a moment, until the room had almost cleared, leaving only Provenza behind.

"Hey, Lieutenant?"

Provenza glanced up. "Yeah?"

"Um, do you think my mom could have had anything to do with this?" The words came out in a rush. He had been trying to figure out how to ask the question since he had stepped off the elevator.

Provenza was speechless for a moment. "Look, Rusty, I doubt it. What could your mom really have against the Captain?" He didn't mention the fiery meltdown Sharon Beck had last time she'd spoken to, or rather threatened, Rusty's acting mother.

"I don't know, but I really think she doesn't like Sharon. Like, at all. And she knows a bunch of people that I'm sure are totally crazy like she is."

Provenza picked up the file detailing the Captain's attack before saying anything. "I'll look into it."

"Really?"

"Sure, kid." His expression softened slightly. "Now go find some game to play on your phone or something. This might take a little while."

Rusty nodded. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." The lieutenant waved him away and made his own way to the interview room. When he opened the door, the Captain was already seated with a mug clasped between her hands. Sanchez was sitting across from her, making small talk.

Provenza cleared his throat. "Captain."

She straightened somewhat and leaned back in her chair, as did Sanchez.

Provenza drew out his chair and sat, glancing up at the camera. He was sure the rest of the team was watching. He looked back at his commander, his victim. "We already have your interview from the hospital. I have to ask, what exactly is the purpose of this? Was it just to distract Taylor? Or did you have something to tell us?"

"I wanted to put it on the record that I'm giving you full access to my medical records from this incident. Someone should be faxing them over sometime today." She paused. "And I figured you'd have questions for me about the shooter."

She had hit the nail on the head. "We do." He pulled a six-pack of photos from the file on the table and slid it in front of her. "Do you recognize any of these men?" He had been hoping to bring the subject up later, with more tact.

She looked down at the glossy photos. They were all dark-haired men of varying heights. She tapped one with her finger. "This is Danny Brandt from Vice." Occasionally, photos of the LAPD were used in the six-packs to help ascertain someone's credibility or just fill an empty photo sleeve. "But I'm afraid I don't recognize anyone else."

Provenza looked down at Danny Brandt, then touched the face below the policeman. "This is Chris Angier."

She frowned. "Is he the one who. . .?"

"Yes," Provenza replied gently. "Are you sure you don't recognize him?"

"I've never seen him before, I don't think. I'm sorry."

Provenza sighed. "We haven't been able to connect him to anything in your career."

"What about Jack's?" she asked. "Unlikely as it is."

Sanchez snorted. "He's not the type who'd hang around lawyers, ma'am. But we did ask him about it, and he denies knowing your- uh- husband."

She flushed very slightly. "Have you asked Jack?"

"No, ma'am. Your children said they had not contacted him in regards to your health, and they preferred it stay that way, unless you said otherwise."

"Ah. Very well." She sighed. "If you need to, go ahead and ask Jack what you need to."

Provenza looked down to fiddle with the file. "We have another lead to pursue first."

She glanced at him quizzically.

"There is the possibility that this is linked to your recent interactions with Sharon Beck."

Her gaze sharpened. "Rusty put you up to this."

"No, no. We thought we should follow up on her, seeing as she's one of your past cases, so to speak."

"Rusty shouldn't be getting involved in this."

"He is in no way involved."

"You thought up a theory with Sharon Beck by yourself?"

"Yes, ma'am." Provenza stared her in the eye, playing his best poker face.

She finally gave way. "Fine. Just keep Rusty out of it. He is not to hear this interview. He is not to be told the details of this interview. Detective Sanchez-" she turned to look at him. "You are not to engage in any activity that will result in Rusty gaining knowledge of what is said about his mother. She's given him too much trouble as it is."

"Deal." Provenza nodded and flipped the file open, sliding it over to Sanchez. "When was the last time you saw Sharon Beck?"

"I saw her about six weeks ago, after you showed me the tape of Rusty's last visit to her."

"You spoke to her in County?"

"Yes."

"Over a visitation phone?"

"Yes. So I suppose you could look up the conversation. I think they keep the tapes for several months, at least."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Ah-" Sharon paused. "We talked about Rusty's well-being and a possible deal for her."

"A deal?"

"I ran it past Andrea Hobbs. Sharon Beck's original sentence was six years for shoplifting and possession of methamphetamines. I offered to reduce it to one year, provided she stayed sober. We had a disagreement about the fairness of the situation. I told her the deal would only hold if she didn't slip, and that I had the means to ensure I would know if she did." She paused. "I may have mentioned random drug testing and confidential informants. She told me I had made a mistake, and I told her I was going home."

"A mistake?"

"In the deal, in taking Rusty, in browbeating her. I don't know, Lieutenant."

"And you haven't seen her since?"

"No. As far as I know, neither has Rusty."

"Thank you. I think this will conclude our interview today. If we have any more questions, we'll let you know." The lieutenant reached under the table and flipped the camera switch. "Come on. Go home." He held out his hand to help her up, and to his surprise, she took it. "Let's go."

They walked out together, Sanchez following. Provenza opened the door to the murder room, and it got stuck halfway. He shoved it again, and it gave way, swinging wide and grunting loudly.

Will Pope stepped out from behind the door. "Excuse me-"

"Ye gods." It was clear now why the Pope had tried to send the Captain home. The man was leading a group of people dressed in expensive suits, both men and women, and likely from the mayor's office. It was the executive tour. Provenza started to back into the hall he had just come from, pushing the Captain back as well, when someone interrupted.

"What happened to her?" Unsurprisingly, it was one of the women.

Sharon tried not to laugh. It was clear that they took her to be some sort of person-of-interest.

Pope's face fell slightly as he realized there was no way to continue his tour as planned. Nevertheless, he acted as though the meeting had been his intention all.

"This is Captain Sharon Raydor, the head of Major Crimes. Captain Raydor, this is Councilwoman Elizabeth Bombeck."

Sharon held out her hand for the woman to shake, but was left hanging.

"What happened to your hand?" Bombeck sounded horrified.

"Part of the job," Sharon replied, straight-faced. She didn't miss the dark look Pope shot her. They were supposed to be casting the LAPD in a golden light, not a blood-spattered lambency.

"Really?"

"Captain Raydor was injured last week, and is here to help her team in the follow-up investigation," Pope tried to lead his following away.

"Oh, you're the cop who was in the paper!" It was someone else this time.

"Yes sir."

"Oh. Your photo. . ." Bombeck trailed off.

"The photo in the paper was my official ID photo. They wanted me to look nice for that one." Sharon couldn't keep the humor out of her voice.

Pope nodded as if he agreed and gently prodded his companions to continue along their way. "Thank you, Captain. Lieutenant." It sounded slightly sour.

"Anytime, Chief. Anytime," Provenza said as he and Sharon walked away. "We hadn't had a papal visit for some time. I suppose we were due."

She rolled her eyes. When they reached the murder room, she dropped into an empty chair with a sigh.

"You okay, Captain?"

"I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Go home."

"I'm fine. I'd like to stay for a while and catch up on what I've missed. I'm sure there's a whole stack of papers in my inbox. Email can only get one so far."

Provenza sat across from her. "You're on emergency medical leave. That alone exempts you from all the paper-pushing. Everything had been diverting to me. Tao, Flynn, and I are taking care of it. The only thing we need you to do is sign off on this month's overtime."

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

"Ah-ah! I will bring this all the way to the Vatican, Captain. It's non-negotiable. You are going home." He pointed a finger at her. "Wait here. I'm going to go find the kid."

When he returned, five minutes later with Rusty in tow, she was in her office, looking through every scrap of paper on the desk. He threw the door open, and she looked up in surprise.

"Out."

She huffed at him, but got up, several files in hand. He took them from her and gently pushed her towards Rusty.

"No. I will make sure you get anything that's absolutely necessary. These are all memos. They can wait."

"That one was most certainly no-"

"Go. Home." Provenza didn't let her go until Rusty had a firm grip on her elbow. "I will call you if anything comes up. I will call you if we wrap any cases. I will call if we wrap _yours_. Go to bed. You look like hell, Captain. Off the record, of course."

She rolled her eyes again, but let Rusty drag her away after she had said goodbye to everyone still in the murder room.

He waited until they were in the care before speaking.

"Do you need anything?"

She glanced at him. His eyes were glued to the road, but she could see worry etched across his face.

"No, thank you."

"What about groceries?"

"Haven't Ricky and Emily been getting anything?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean is there, like, anything _you_ want?"

"I'm sure whatever is around the house will be just fine."

"Okay. But if you think of anything, I can totally run out and get it."

"Rusty." She reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine, I promise."

He took a moment to look at her, and she could tell she'd done nothing to reassure him. She didn't bother trying again. Rusty was one of those people who could only come around in his own time. Further prodding would only slow the process.

They drove the rest of the way to the condo in contemplative silence. Rusty parked the car in the underground lot and grabbed her bag before coming around to help her out. They walked to the stairs, much to Rusty's annoyance and Sharon's pleasure. She was insistent they take the stairs to the lobby so she could pick up her mail. They did not need to take the elevator. He had two working legs, didn't he? And so did she.

The man at the desk smiled at her when they made their way up to him. Rusty didn't know his name, but the guy was always nice and not at all weird. After all the events of the past few years, Rusty had decided he was decent at judging people and that the people he decided fell into the "weird" category were to be avoided.

"We saw the article in the paper, Ms. Raydor. Everyone on the staff was rooting for you. I'm glad you're back. "

Sharon smiled as she took the stack of envelopes from him. There were more than were usual for her in a single week. "Thank you."

After another minute's small talk, she and Rusty made their way to the elevator and took it up to her floor. They walked slowly down the hall. Before they reached the door, Emily threw it open.

"Finally! I thought we were going to have to come down and get you." Emily held the door for them. "Rusty, we got the sofa all set up," she called as she set the lock.

"I am not-"

"Mom, just go sit on the sofa for a bit. Em's all neurotic about it," Ricky told her, emerging from the kitchen with what looked like a chicken nugget in hand.

"Please tell me you cooked that," Sharon sighed.

Ricky gave her a skeptical look. "I've eaten them frozen my whole life, and you think I'm going to change now?"

"You're going to get salmonella."

"Mom," he moaned. "They're pre-cooked. I like them frozen. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She smiled as she sat down on the sofa. "I'm always going to worry about you."

"Ditto, mom stuff."

She rolled her eyes.

Ricky and Emily had covered her perfectly nice sofa with all manner of blankets they had dragged out of the closet and several pillows that she recognized from both her room and Rusty's.

"What is all of this for?" she waved a hand at the mess around her.

"It's nice," Emily replied. "What do you want to eat?"

It was beginning already. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something. Rusty said you didn't really eat anything before they released you, and it's dinnertime now."

She cast a dark look in her youngest's direction, but he had already darted into the kitchen.

"Emily, I will eat when I'm hungry, I promise."

"Oxycodone's side effects include nausea and lack of appetite," Ricky replied.

"Did you read that in my discharge papers?" She had folded them into her purse, and left the purse in its usual spot on the hall table. Ricky could have easily found them.

"No. I just knew that."

"You _just knew_ it."

"It's the same stuff I had when I broke my leg. I remembered."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything. Her middle child had always had a propensity for odd information.

"You have to eat something," Emily leaned over the back of the sofa.

"Later," Sharon reiterated. "I promise you, I will get something later."

"How about tea?" This time it was Rusty who spoke.

Sharon sighed. It hadn't been a fair fight to begin with, and now the discussion was completely one-sided.

"Later."

"No, Mom, how about I make you tea with some milk in it? That isn't exactly food or anything."

Sharon shot Ricky a dark look. "Fine." They were her children, through and through, and the verbal sparring could easily last all day, courtesy of Gavin's well-meant tutoring. He had taught both Emily and Ricky to talk themselves out of time-outs at an early age. Sharon just considered it a minor miracle neither of them had chosen to go to law school. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Mom-"

"Emily, I can do that just fine. I'm not going to melt in the water."

"But-"

"Neither am I going to allow you to help or delay me. I haven't had a proper shower in a week."

Rusty mumbled something as she got up, and she glanced at him sharply. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Rusty."

He looked down, then grinned slightly. "Sanchez told me they called you 'Darth Raydor,' and I can kinda see why."

She rolled her eyes and made her way down the hall. It took several minutes for her to gather her clothes and lock herself in the bathroom. Thankfully, no one came down the hall to check on her again.

They were wonderful young people, she thought, but she had had more than enough time with them over the past days and was ready for a few minutes to herself.

* * *

><p>Rusty watched Sharon walk slowly- really slowly, he thought- down the hall to her room. He knew better than to follow her though. The tone she had just used had been the one that practically screamed 'go away.'<p>

"So."

Rusty turned and found Ricky sprawled across one of the dining area chairs.

"Yeah?"

"What does she usually drink? It changes every couple of weeks."

"I know." There were nearly twenty different types of tea in the kitchen cabinets, and she drank them sweetened, with milk, plain, with milk and sugar, with lemon. The list could go on for pages. "Try black with honey and almond milk. I think that's her latest thing."

Sharon's eldest son wrinkled his nose. "Almond milk?"

"Yeah, the unsweetened kind."

Ricky made a gagging noise and Emily threw a damp dishcloth at him from the kitchen.

"You haven't even tried it."

"I don't need to. I hear 'almond' and 'unsweetened,' and it adds up to 'gross' and 'low-calorie,' neither of which I'm interested in."

Emily rolled her eyes, unconsciously imitating her mother. "Seriously? I thought you had outgrown that."

"Nope." Ricky rolled out of the chair and walked over to the kitchen, throwing the fridge open. "I do want dinner, though."

Another sigh.

"What do you want?"

"I dunno. Whatever."

"Rusty?"

"I don't know."

"_Come on_. I know you guys have some preference."

"Not really," Rusty said.

"Nope," Ricky repeated at the same time.

"Fine. Then you're going to eat what I make, and you'll _like it._"

"Okay."

"Make Mom her tea, and I'll get dinner going." Emily pulled an elastic off her wrist and neatly swept her hair up.

Ricky glanced at Rusty, and they both got up and set about following Emily's orders. It only took a few minutes, but by the time they were done, they had a large mug approximately three-quarters milk and honey and about one quarter Earl Grey.

They had heard Sharon clattering around in her room before they finished, so they both went down the hall together. Ricky held the mug in one hand and gently pushed Rusty up to the closed bedroom door.

"Better you than me," he mouthed.

Rusty shot him a dark look.

"Sharon?"

There was a moment of silence, then "Yes?"

"We, uh, brought you some-" Rusty looked down at the cup. "Tea."

The door swung open, and Sharon looked them both over appraisingly. "Mmhmm. And?"

"Nothing." Ricky's poker face was too perfect.

She raised one eyebrow. "I'll be out in a minute. I'll even sit on the mess you made of my sofa." She snapped the door shut, leaving them facing each other.

"I guess she's feeling better," Rusty said quietly.

They walked back out to the living room, and, true to her word, Sharon joined them shortly after. She did look better. Rusty was pretty sure she was wearing make-up, but either way, her color was better. Her hair was damp, curling around her shoulders, and she had changed into leggings and an overlarge violet sweater.

"Where is it?"

"Huh?" Both boys were confused.

"The tea. If I have to drink it, I'd prefer it not be cold."

"Oh." Rusty handed her the cup, and she looked at it unenthusiastically. He watched her take a sip and wrinkle her nose slightly. "Is it okay?"

"I was expecting tea with milk, not milk with tea, but yes, it's just fine."

They sat in silence as Emily cooked. Sharon sipped her tea from time to time, but seemed content to gaze out the window.

"How long until you go back to work?" Ricky leaned forward, elbows upon knees.

His mother pursed her lips slightly as she thought. "Probably another two weeks until I can return full-time, maybe longer, depending on what the psychologist thinks." She turned to him suddenly. "You needn't stay here the whole time. You can't take another two weeks off from work. And neither can you, Em!" she called.

"I wasn't planning on it, just wondering."

"Good. Not that I don't want you here," she added. "But you can't give yourself up for me."

Ricky fell back against the couch. "Jesus, Mom," he laughed. "You certainly gave enough for me and Em and Rusty, let us give some back."

She looked at him archly, but warmly. "That's a parent's job, as you will know well someday."

"God, not for a while, I hope," he muttered. "I don't feel like enough of an adult to do that."

She snorted. "Believe me, I felt that way about Emily all the way up through the day she was born."

"Ma-a!" he bleated. "Too much information. Come on."

"Oh, I can't wait for the day you have a little someone telling you the same thing."

"Food's up!" Emily called. "Rick, Rust, come 'ere. We're eating in the living room. Help me take the dishes out there."

"No-" Sharon protested half-heartedly, but to no avail. The other three came back moments later with bowls heaped with some sort of pasta.

"It's organic mac 'n' cheese with peas, carrots, and turkey. And it's made with yogurt instead of milk and butter. Maggie taught me how to do it in New York." She caught Rusty's confused glance. "She was one of the girls I danced with, but she's with NYC now, not American. Dance companies," she added again, before turning on her mother. "Eat."

"I will."

"Now."

Sharon shot her daughter a dark look, but nevertheless lifted a small forkful to her lips. "There."

"Good. Keep going."

Rusty glanced at Ricky and they tried not to laugh. Obstinacy and doggedness clearly ran in the family.

_**A/N- haha. . . That, like, doubled the length of my story. Please review it. (;**_


	10. Love

_**A/N- I think my teachers and my residents are trying to tag team me. I love you guys all the more haha (: R&R, please.**_

"Flynn, get your ass off my desk."

The man in question barely looked at his partner. "I'm tired and Sanchez is in my chair."

Provenza sighed, but let them be. "I think I'm going to send everyone home even if we have a break when the prison sends the fax back." About half an hour before, they had called the prison where Sharon Beck now resided and requested a list and background on all of the woman's cellmates.

That got Flynn's attention. "Oh, c-"

"No. It's-" Provenza checked his watched. "It's past ten. Yes, I know that Rusty's information was a good tip, but nothing is going to change whether or not we wrap this tomorrow or the day after."

"But-"

"Everyone is exhausted. It's only been three days that we've really been working this case, and God knows we hardly got anything done today between the Papal visit and the Dark Lord sneaking in." He sighed and looked to the fax. "Look. Let's break now. It's going to be a while before the fax comes in. They'll have to check all of their logs and gather packets on everyone, and it's going to take a while. We're of no use if we're so tired we can't think straight."

Flynn sighed, but didn't protest further. Instead, he dropped back into his chair and toyed with a red beanbag from his drawer until everyone but his partner had left.

"So."

Provenza swung his coat over his shoulder. "So, what?"

"We're just going to leave it? Wait for Sharon Beck to strike again?"

Provenza sighed aggrievedly. "Sharon Beck isn't going to strike overnight. To be honest, I'd be surprised if she had any more favors she could call in on this kind of scale- _assuming this was her. _It might not be." He hurriedly cut Flynn off. "Not that I'm saying I think she's innocent, but I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch."

"It must have been one hell of a favor someone owed."

"Yeah, well. You get into meth and you're in it deep."

They stood in silence for a long moment, before Provenza finally began buttoning his jacket.

"Come on. Let's go. We can drop by and see the Captain, and then you and I are going to nearest bar. I'll even buy you a round of that cranberry swill."

* * *

><p><p>

Rusty nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped on the door lightly. He had been caught in that odd stage between wakefulness and dreams.

Ricky and Emily both glanced towards him, and he nodded to indicate he'd answer the door. He eased off the sofa, leaving the blankets behind.

The four of them had been watching a movie. It had been Emily's choice, a nineties flick about nuns and a showgirl from Las Vegas. It was a girly movie, but all things considered, it wasn't too bad.

Rusty eased the door open and was unsurprised to find both Flynn and Provenza standing in the hall.

"Hey kid," Flynn said.

"Hey. Did something happen? Did you guys-"

"We haven't made much progress," Provenza cut in. "It's late, and the people we need to talk to have all gone home." He didn't sound bitter, just bemusedly resigned to the fact that his job called him out at all hours, every day of the year.

"Oh. Okay. Um, I think Sharon's asleep-"

"I'm awake." Her voice, carrying from the living room, sounded groggy.

Rusty shot the lieutenants a look. She _had_ been asleep.

"You sound like hell, Captain. Go back to bed," Provenza called.

"I am not a child," she replied calmly. "I will stay up as long as I like."

Emily spoke over her. "You know, I'm not past crushing your pills up and dumping them in your tea or your food or something."

"Good thing I'm not hungry, then."

"You said that when we started the movie. And you _promised_ you'd eat something when you woke up."

"I meant later. I didn't intend-"

"Hey, hey." Provenza stepped past Rusty and over to Emily and Sharon, physically blocking them from each other. "Captain, eat something. Little Captain, make something simple."

Emily glanced at her watch. "It's almost eleven. . . but you haven't really had anything all day. . ." She slid her phone out of her pocket and rapidly swiped through apps and data. "Vegan quiche with spinach, kale, and fakin' bacon. I've been dying to try it."

"Oh, God, you haven't made this before?" Ricky said. "God save us." He grinned, though, and waved his sister towards the kitchen.

They could hear her clattering around in the kitchen, when there was a sudden silence. Provenza turned towards the kitchen and was shocked to see Emily leaning out across the kitchen island, holding a perfect plank. Everything from her hips forward was _en air. _She grinned at them.

"I forgot to ask: does anyone want something other than fakin' bacon?"

"Yes!" Ricky and Rusty said together.

* * *

><p>Buzz cast a sideways look at Brenda and grinned. She caught it and frowned slightly.<p>

"Now you know what being me is like," he said.

She held up her laminated paper credential by the tips of her fingers. "A sworn-in civilian. For heaven's sake-"

"At least you're here," Fritz cut her off. "Pope and Taylor could have kept you out."

"I'd have liked to see them try," she muttered. She sighed heavily and refocused her attention on the computer screen before her as Sanchez stepped into the interrogation room. "Is that her?"

Sharon Beck half-stumbled in behind Sanchez, aided slightly by Amy Sykes.

"Oh, sorry! I get so excited for interviews."

Sanchez snorted slightly at Amy's words.

"This is Rusty's mother?" Brenda asked disdainfully.

"The one and only," Provenza replied. "Biologically, anyways."

Brenda nodded in agreement, already giving all her attention to the screen. Sharon Beck was wearing a deep blue jumpsuit, and looked to be half-drowning in it. She also looked annoyed, though whether that was cover for something else or true annoyance at being dragged out of bed and across town at seven in the morning remained to be seen.

"Ms. Beck," Sykes started. "So sorry to have to bother you this early."

Sharon Beck merely raised her eyebrows. "Not like I'm going to be anywhere else."

Amy smiled tightly. "Oh, I suppose so."

Sanchez coughed loudly.

Brenda watched the beginning of the interview in fascination.

"Rusty actually lived with her?" She asked Tao, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Yeah, until she dumped him at the zoo."

"Ooh, _this woman_!"

Mike tried not to smile at the familiar turn of phrase, once again turned upon a Sharon.

"And what makes y'all think she might have something to do with the Captain's shootin'?"

Provenza sighed. "It was actually Rusty who brought it up. I didn't think it would amount to anything, but I told the kid I'd check."

"And?" Brenda turned to look at him.

"We found some interesting. . . connections." He slid a file across the counter, and Brenda snatched it before it was entirely out of his hand.

"Oh!" Brenda glared at the papers. "Oh, did she really? You're sure?"

"As sure as we can be, Brenda." Fritz gently tugged the file from her to glance it over himself. Provenza had briefed him earlier, while Brenda was meeting with the rest of her former team.

"So Rusty's mother was a drug mule?" Brenda confirmed.

"For methamphetamines."

"For heaven's sake." The blonde pursed her lips and frowned. "An' she got jailed this last time before she got paid?"

"That's what county's rumor mill is telling us, Chief," Mike replied. "Bre- Chief." Even after all the time since Brenda had stepped down, she was still the Chief. Calling her by name just didn't seem right.

"Mm." Brenda frowned again, smoothing her floral skirt out. "She didn't get paid, so she called in a favor and had Cap'n Raydor shot? Is that what you're thinkin'?"

"Yeah. She hasn't had any visitors since Rusty, and he-" Flynn paused, chewing his toothpick. "He loves his- well, his mother, I guess, since Sharon's adopting him."

Brenda noted Flynn's casual use of Sharon's name and tried not to smile. _So Fritzi was right_. "Alright. So she got the message out through a cellmate or somethin'."

She jumped as there was a loud bang from over the speakers.

Sharon Beck had slammed her handcuffed wrists down on the table.

"That bitch! She's trying to turn my own son against me! And you know what? She _threatened_ me! Yeah, that's right! It's on video, when she came to visit me." Rusty's mother dropped back into her chair and looked at Sanchez and Sykes with a haughty expression.

Brenda turned and smiled up at her husband. "Can I still run interviews, Fritzi? I'd like to meet Ms. Beck in person."

* * *

><p><p>

"Really? Well that's great. Wait- no- no, I can't. I'm sorry, Lieutenant, it's a conflict- yeah. Yeah. Rios. No, really. She's one hell of a bulldog- I _know_ you don't like her, but she's the best we've got. No, Gavin can't. For one- fine. Fine. It's Rios or Michaels. That's what I thought. Goodbye, Lieutenant Provenza." Andrea rolled her eyes at Sharon. "Goodbye." She ended the call with the click of her phone's lock button.

Sharon looked over the back of the sofa. "What was that?"

"Your lieutenants nailed this case shut. With the help of Brenda, of course."

Sharon grinned. "That woman is never going to be able to stay away from trouble. Trouble being Proflynnza, of course."

Andrea set the mugs she had retrieved on the table. "Excuse me?"

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "You've never heard Brenda call them that?"

"I feel like there's a story in here somewhere."

"I think it was the time they 'forgot' to tell her about the dead woman in Provenza's garage. FID was just down the hall from her division when it happened, and we heard the whole thing." She sat up a little straighter. "She came storming into her murder room-" she flipped her hair back and did her best to imitate Brenda's twang. "Where. Are. _Proflynnza?!_ It was so funny. I thought Elliot was going to die laughing."

Andrea filled the mugs with the pre-made chai Gavin had brought over when he came to force Sharon's children out of the condo earlier that morning. She had just put them on the table when she heard Sharon getting up. "Don't get up. You're supposed to be resting."

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Sharon replied as she rounded the end of the sofa. Catching sight of Andrea's horrified expression, she sighed slightly. "Too soon?"

"Very much so."

"I'm not going to break, 'Drea. I know you and Gavin and everyone else aren't convinced of it, but everything is getting better." She sat down in the chair beside the one Andrea was standing behind. "I'm going to be just fine in another week or so."

Andrea sighed and sat next to her friend. "None of us are as young as we were. And your job is so dangerous. I know you know, but the odds of officers getting killed on the job-"

Sharon raised a hand. "Let's not go there. I know the odds."

"You came damn close to becoming a statistic last week, Shar."

Sharon leaned over the edge of the table and gripped Andrea's hand. "But I didn't. I'm not a statistic, Andrea. I'm not going to just up and- well. I'm not going anywhere. I still need to finalize Rusty's adoption and divorce Jack."

Andrea gave a faint laugh. "And you and Gavin and I haven't managed to have a meal together in months."

"Exactly." Sharon sat back and picked up her tea. She rolled her eyes when Andrea slapped a couple of pills down on the table.

"Rusty said you're supposed to take your medication, even if you say you don't. Ricky and Em backed him up." She glanced down at the tablets. "I think this is right."

"Try not to kill me. I don't think Taylor would appreciate having to approve a second set of medical bills for me. He'd probably try to forward it to the DA's office."

Andrea snorted. "In typical Taylor style. But really, check that I've done this correctly. Oxycodone." she pushed a small white tab across the table. "Antibiotics." Two large tabs. "And ibuprofen in another hour."

Sharon sighed. "I don't need the painkillers." She picked up the antibiotics and washed them down with her tea. "It doesn't really hurt."

Andrea raised an eyebrow. "That's a lie, Captain Raydor."

"It doesn't help. It just makes me so tired that I don't care about anything. I don't want to sleep. I've been lazing around and sleeping this whole week."

The front door crashed open as she finished speaking.

"Darling." Gavin's tone was unmistakable. "All I heard was that you don't want to sleep, but let me tell you something." He rounded the wall and lightly leaned on Sharon's shoulders to get his face right next to hers. "I don't mean to insult you; you look stunning for a woman of- what is it? Sixty-two? Don't answer that. But, dear, on a scale of corpse to zombie, you're about a three."

Sharon turned and glared at him darkly. "'Corpse to zombie'?" Really, Gavin?"

"Blame your youngest. He's forced me to watch post-apocalyptic films with him. I tried to compromise with a French zombie film, but he refused. You need to rub off on him more. I can at least get Emily and Richard to watch the occasional Swedish mystery."

"A three."

"You look a step above six feet under, love."

She sighed. "I'm still not taking it. I'll take the ibuprofen."

Gavin looked to Andrea. "Sweetie, this is your division."

"Since when is she mine?"

"Since she started making bad decisions involving her personal health and safety. You carry the bigger credentials, dear. I'm just a private lawyer nowadays." He flicked his scarf off expertly, and neatly deposited it over the back of the coach with his coat. "Oh, and just so you know, the three babies are at the farmers' market on Grand. I told them they could walk home of I could pick them up."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."

Andrea looked at the small tablet sitting on the table. "I'll cut you a deal."

"Here we go!" Gavin grinned.

"I won't make you take this dose."

Gavin gasped theatrically.

"But if you start feeling even _marginally_ worse, you have to let me know and take the pill."

"What if I don't tell you and just take ibuprofen again?" Sharon raised her eyebrows.

"Sharon Raydor, I've been around you for long enough to know when something's wrong, and physical pain is easier to discern than emotional, and I'd like to think I'm pretty damn good at emotions already."

There was a long silence.

"Fine."

Andrea held out her hand. "A handshake should be enough, as I have a witness. I won't make you sign a contract."

Sharon laughed slightly. "I'm never going to ink my name on anything from you or Gavin. I know there would be some little sub-clause about four-inch stilettos or getting coffee with you every time either one of you is in Parker Center."

Gavin leaned over the back of the sofa. "That's fair."

Andrea shook Sharon's hand tightly. "Deal." She went to withdraw her hand, but Sharon didn't let go.

"What did Lieutenant Provenza say?"

"Are we really going back there?"

"I want to know."

Andrea shot yet another helpless glance at Gavin, but he merely raised his hands. "I'm not even involved in this, 'Dre. I have no case details. This is all yours. Again."

"I'm not buying you any coffee from that place you like next time I'm in San Francisco."

"I can't help! Really, truly!"

"You could at least pretend to help me."

Sharon cleared her throat.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Lieutenant Provenza?"

"He said that. . ." Andrea paused.

"What?"

"Rusty. . ."

Sharon's face fell. "What? What about Rusty?"

"He didn't do anything."

"But what has he got to do with this?"

"He spoke to Provenza."

"We're still talking-"

"Yes. We're on the same subject. Rusty asked Provenza to look into his mother."

Sharon frowned. "What?"

"He thought his mother might have had something to do with. . . this."

The blood ran from Sharon's face. "No."

Andrea looked down. "I'm sorry."

"She didn't." Sharon stared into her cup. "She can't have done this to him."

"Remember when she got caught shoplifting? She was carrying meth? Apparently, she worked as a mule."

"She carried drugs." Sharon's voice was flat.

"Yeah. And she was angry. At you, I suppose."

Sharon smiled faintly. "I did threaten her."

"She called in a favor. Apparently, Flynn told your hitman that they had Sharon Beck in custody, and that I could cut him a deal, and he spilled everything."

"She did it."

Andrea looked up at the sound of Gavin's hurried footsteps, and found that Sharon's face had crumpled and her eyes were damp. Gavin wrapped his arms around her and squeezed as tightly as I could.

"Hugs lower blood pressure," he mumbled. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

Sharon sniffed. "Does Rusty know?"

"I don't think Provenza told him anything. They didn't know how you wanted to do it, or if you did."

"I wish I could protect him from this, but he's going to know."

"He is," Andrea agreed quietly. She knew her friend had already made a decision, but Sharon always walked herself through nearly everything she did.

"I suppose it's best if he hears it from me."

"Okay."

"It's better than letting one of the lieutenants tell him, because then he'll be stuck in a limbo about talking to me."

"Most likely."

"Gavin?"

"Yes, dear?"

"When are they coming back?"

The lawyer glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Another half-hour or so. Do you want me to spirit the elder two off somewhere?"

"Maybe." Sharon sighed deeply, rubbing her fingers over the bruising that still lingered on her chest. "If you can do it subtly. Maybe ask them if they want to pick up sushi. Rusty doesn't like anything but California rolls. Em and Ricky will go for it, I'm sure. Maybe you all could do that for lunch, and Rusty could stay here with me."

"Sounds like a plan."

Sharon nodded. "You can let go now, Gavin."

The man squeezed her tightly then stepped back and took a seat at the table with the two women.

"I'd like to hear the rest of the story."

Andrea nodded. "Let me just open my notes." She swiped through her phone, drawing up the document she was looking for. "Apparently, she had previously worked with another woman who was just finishing her time in county. Elizabeth Hayes?"

Sharon shook her head. "I haven't heard of her."

"Well, she got Hayes to talk to Chris Angier, the man your team apprehended. He owed Sharon Beck some kind of favor. Tao was still working on that part, but I think she was his dealer. He's a meth-head, that's for sure. Off his rocker. I mean, honest to God, why would you shoot a cop at close range unless you had a death wish or were high out of your mind?"

"Andrea," Sharon prompted gently. "The case."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, Sharon Beck must have offered to drop his debt or give him some kind of discount. And we're pretty sure Hayes made the tip-call that you got. IT was from a payphone, so I don't know exactly. But he did it. Sharon Beck is refusing to talk to us, but I think Angier will give us everything we need as soon as Emma writes his deal up. That's why Provenza called. I told him to get her on the case, as I can't do it. I don't know what she's going to do, but my guess is that she'll take the death penalty off the table and give him life without parole in exchange for his testimony."

"Alright. And you think she did this just to get back at me for not getting her a deal?"

Andrea sighed. "I think it's too early to be sure, but that's what your team is thinking. The deal and the fact that you've done such a good job with Rusty. I think she just can't cope with the fact that she's in jail and he's moved on."

"Rather extreme, isn't she?" Gavin muttered. "Dear Lord, if I tried to kill every that ever bothered me. . ."

"You'd fund the entire assassin economy, yeah."

"I could probably do quite a few. . . How much is a down payment?"

Andrea laughed. "It was seventy-five hundred for me. I think your team found ten grand in the trunk of Angier's car. . ."

"So, say. . . eight-point-five. I could buy enough for your whole squad from my last paycheck alone. I might have to look more into that."

"Gavin!" Andrea slapped his arm. "No."

The lawyer rolled his eyes. "As you wish." He picked his jacket up. "I'm going to go retrieve your young ankle-biters. I'll drop the littlest off here." He flashed them a winning grin and swept out the door.

He was back half an hour later, Rusty in tow. The boy was carrying a few plastic bag of what was clearly farmer's market goods, and Gavin held a paper bag of what looked to be apples.

"Andrea, dear, let's switch, shall we?" Gavin set his bag down on the table next to Rusty's. "Come on. The other two are waiting in my car, and I just had it cleaned."

"Are you saying you don't trust my children?" Sharon asked him lightly.

"That is exactly what I'm saying. Like mother, like monkeys."

Sharon shook her head as Gavin dragged Andrea away.

Rusty fell over the back of the sofa and flopped into the cushions. "I think they're going to go get sushi from that one place across town. Gavin said we should bring all the stuff we got back here, and I told him I'd wait with you. I'm not really into driving across town to look at chunks of fish and pick which ones I have to eat."

"He said he'd get some rolls for you."

"Thank God." Rusty sat up and looked over at his foster mother. "Are you okay? Do you, like, need anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She looked at him over the rim of her teacup. He had grown so much in the two years he'd been with her. Physically, mentally, emotionally. She remembered the first weeks together, when he lived on the sofa he was now sprawled over, and a civil conversation had been a rare occurrence. He had been wound so tightly and tied up with himself- not that she could blame him- and now he was easier to get along with, kinder, and overall a better person. His age probably had something to do with that as well. Sixteen always had been and always would be an odd and awkward year.

She sighed inwardly. "Rusty?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk for a minute?"

He sat bolt upright again. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. This isn't about me."

"Is this my thirty-"

"No. It is most certainly not."

"Then what?"

"It's about your mother, Rusty."

A dark look came over the boy's face. "She screwed up again, didn't she?" Another odd look washed over him, and he stared at Sharon. "She did it, didn't she?"

There was no need to say what _it_ was.

"Yes." Sharon got up and made her way over to the sofa to sit next to him. "Rusty, I'm so sorry to have to tell you-"

"Don't be." He was looking down, in the other direction. "What she does is her own decision. I'm not her babysitter anymore."

Sharon's heart went out to him. That wasn't the kind of job a child was supposed to have. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's okay." He looked up at her. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"My mother-"

"Oh, Rusty." She leaned in and hugged him tightly. "You are not responsible for her or anything she does. Do _not_ apologize for her. She may make some bad decisions, but they are in no way related to you. No matter what she says," she added, watching the skepticism on Rusty's face.

"I'm still sorry. It's sort of my fault, because-"

"_No._ No, it is _not. _There's nothing you could have done to change this course of events. You had no influence over her, and she's just making excuses." Sharon paused. "Do you want to talk to Dr. Joe?"

He snorted. "I'm good, Sharon. Thanks."

"Mr. I-don't-talk-to-shrinks," she teased gently. "If you change your mind-"

"I'll let you know. I know, Sharon."

"Okay." She sat back and watched him for a moment before turning her attention to the window.

The room was silent for a while, before Rusty spoke. He kept his eyes on the cityscape outside. "I love you."

"I love you, too."


	11. Pope

**_a/n- Here begins a series of short segments. For clarification, they take place earlier in the story. Thank you for all the reviews and love. Sorry for the length between updates!_**

_"Captain?"_

_She opened her eyes. Will Pope stood before her, impeccably dressed and holding a thick file in one hand and a small vase of chrysanthemums in the other._

_"Chief," she said slowly._

_"I wasn't sure if you were asleep, sorry. Did I wake you?"_

Uncharacteristically kind_, she thought. "No, sir. I'm just half-asleep all day." The sentence didn't really make sense, but she didn't want to try and figure out why. Everything was still in a drug-laced haze. She was pretty sure she had woken up for the first time earlier that day, but she wasn't entirely certain. It might have been yesterday._

_He gingerly sat down in the chair next to her bed. "How are you feeling?"_

_"Mmm. Alright. Just a little tired." She was exhausted. When Ricky had helped her move to the new room, she had almost fallen asleep before they had gotten to the room. Her short burst of energy hadn't lasted long._

_"I'm glad to hear that."_

_"Why are you here, Chief?" She didn't want to bother being polite, and he wasn't the type to just drop by wounded officers with a vase of flowers._

_"I wanted to see how you were doing."_

_She smiled sardonically. "Thank you."_

_She must have shown a tell, because he knew what she was thinking. "I don't drop by everyone, Captain, but you _are_ one of the most senior, decorated members of the force. And believe it or not, I _do _care if one of my officers is shot to pieces outside her office."_

_She laughed faintly, wrapping one arm tightly about herself. "Thank you, Chief." She meant it honestly this time._

_"Bureaucracy is my second tongue. I learned honest English before I learned to speak bullshit fluently," he smiled._

_She smiled back. She had almost forgotten this side of Will Pope, the man, not the smooth-talking politico he usually was. _

_"What's that?" she brushed her fingers along the file he still held._

_"I did have a bit of a double agenda today, I'm afraid."_

_"That's alright."_

_"This is your new and improved file."_

_"What?" she stared at him incredulously._

_"I thought you of all people would have known the amount of paperwork that goes into this."_

_"I'm just surprised everything was pulled together so quickly."_

_"FID hasn't forgotten you. I think you'll live on in their halls and memories for quite a while yet. They ran overtime getting all the internal paperwork together. Your case falls partially into their jurisdiction. They're working it with Taylor, but I don't expect your team to stay away from it much longer."_

_She hummed amusedly. "Oh no. Not with Proflynnza in charge."_

_Pope chuckled. "God, don't remind me. When are you coming back?"_

_He said it in jest, but she answered seriously. "As soon as I can. No one else seems to believe me when I tell them it's not the end of the world, and I could have done worse."_

_Pope raised his eyebrows. "You're on some pretty good drugs, Captain."_

_"Mmhmm." She shifted and looked up at him. "What was the other part of your double agenda?"_

_"Oh, yeah." He flipped her file open. "Could you release your medical records to us?"_

_"Of course."_

_He handed her a pen and the waiver, attached to the file._

_She stared at the words. The page was full of print, and it blurred slightly before her eyes._

_"Chief, I can't possibly read this all now. Even if I could, I don't think I'd be able to understand half of it in my state. Is-"_

_"There's nothing weird in it. Your boy Elliot drew it up, himself. It's perfectly golden, I promise. It even requests just partial records: the last couple days is all."_

_"Alright." She scrawled her name across the bottom. _Capn. Sharon Raydor. _It was almost illegible, but Pope didn't seem to mind._

_"Let me know if you need anything. We take care of our own."_


	12. Rusty

_"Rusty, I think you have some mail."_

_"What?" He pulled his head back out of the refrigerator and looked at Sharon. He had been trying his best to be quiet, because she had been asleep when he had gotten home from work. It had been her first day back. He had come home, just after six, and she was asleep on the sofa, still in her work clothes, half curled under a blanket, with one hand dangling over the edge of the cushions and the other arm arched over her head. He had taken a photo on his phone and promptly sent it to Ricky. Blackmail to be used against Sharon if they ever needed it._

_"Mail," she said amusedly. "It comes in paper rectangles called envelopes."_

_"Ha. Very funny." Nonetheless, he walked back to the side table by the door and began rifling through the day's mail. "How was your day?"_

_"Oh." She stretched her arms over her head. "Not too bad. Very low key."_

_"Did you pass your tests or whatever they are?" He found two envelopes addressed to him, and tried not to sound too excited._

_"My firearms test and the psychologist? Yes. I very nearly beat Lieutenant Provenza's last score. I think he was just lucky that round. I won't have to take a physical for a while yet, though." She walked over to him. "What's this?"_

_He held up the letters. There was one from UCLA and one from Reedley. "College admissions."_

_She was silent, and he looked up, worried, but found her smiling widely. "Do you want to open them?"_

_He stuck one finger under the flap and tore the paper open, then did the same with the second one. He read them to himself, as Sharon looked on anxiously. He handed them to her when he had finished, but she didn't read them._

_"Well, what do they say?" she asked instead._

_He chewed his lip. "I got in."_

_"To both of them?"_

_"Yeah. And I think I got some scholarship, too." He didn't sound excited, but he was, inwardly. It was almost too much to process. A kid like him, getting accepted to colleges and getting _paid_ to go._

_"Oh, honey!" Sharon flung her arms around him, and he grinned as he held her tightly._

_She had made it all possible, he thought. Without Sharon Raydor and her relentless doggedness, he'd probably still be on the streets. She had forced him to do better than he'd ever thought he could do, and then pushed him further._


	13. Emma

_"I want to charge her with conspiracy to commit murder and assault of an officer with a deadly weapon."_

_"That's it?" Taylor was surprised. Emma Rios wasn't known for skimping on charges._

_"Well, they still haven't convicted her of-" Emma looked at her notes. "Felony shoplifting, felony possession of methamphetamines, intent to sell, child abandonment. I figured I could just add those on to my allegations. Wrap everything up with one big bow."_

_The man barked a laugh. "That's the Emma Rios I know."_

_She smiled slightly. "Just doing my job."_


	14. Sykes

_"The LAPD is proud to award the Medal of Valor to Commander Sharon Raydor."_

_Rusty was sitting in the audience with the rest of Sharon's squad. They had all been on the stage the better part of half an hour before to receive a meritorious unit citation or something. After sitting for so long, all the award names started to blur together._

_Sharon looked good, he thought. She looked like she did in some of the older photos he'd seen of her. Her hair was pulled back in a strict bun under her navy cap, her eyes glimmered under dark make-up, and her uniform was precisely pressed, with every button and bit gleaming in the light. Her old, battered Captain's badge was still pinned to her chest, as she hadn't been formally promoted until just then. She hadn't wanted to change to a better badge, either._

_Pope himself held out a black box with her new badge and Taylor had a smaller white one with the medal in it. She took the black box, and Pope pinned the medal to her uniform, before handing her both boxes and a framed document._

_"Congratulations, Commander."_

_"Thank you, Chief."_

_They both turned to face the audience, and before anyone could clap, Provenza whistled loudly._

_Sykes giggled slightly as everyone began to clap. No one could stop the old Lieutenant from doing exactly as he pleased._


	15. Rusty II

_"Wow."_

_Sharon looked on bemusedly. "What?"_

_"I wasn't expecting it to be this big."_

_She laughed. It was a rare occurrence for a dorm room to be labeled 'big.' "You won't be saying that in a few months."_

_"Hey, you never know. This is plenty big for two people."_

_"Mmhmm." She set her hands on one of the boxes that sat on his bed. "I think this is everything."_

_"If I've forgotten anything, you only live, like, half an hour away, Sharon."_

_She smiled. "I know. But it's a big change. A college campus is its own little fishbowl. You have to come by for lunch with all of us on Friday, though."_

_"Lunch with Lieutenant Provenza? Wouldn't miss it for the world."_

_She snorted. "Come here."_

_They hugged each other tightly, and he was pretty sure she was on the verge of tears when she left a few minutes later. He had reassured her that he'd call when everything was set up. He'd call if he had forgotten anything. Yes, he would definitely pick up if she called. Unless he was in class. Yes, of course he would pay attention in class._

_Jay, his new roommate, stepped into the room a short while later. They had met each other earlier, and texted a bit over the summer. _

_"Dude, was that your mom?"_

_Rusty didn't pause. "Yeah."_

_"Is she a lawyer or something? I've never seen anyone else's parents come to move-in in clothes that nice."_

_Rusty laughed. "She's a cop. Her best friend is a lawyer, though, and they go shopping together, like, _all_ the time."_


	16. Sharon

_"Raydor."_

_"I thought you had caller ID, Sharon."_

_"Rusty!" she smiled into the phone. It was the night before Sharon Beck's trial was scheduled to begin, and the commander had been worried about her youngest child._

_"Yep. It's me."_

_"How is school going?"_

_She could practically see his shrug. "It's only, like, the third day, Sharon. It's good though. I like my classes so far."_

_"Anything in particular?"_

_"Spanish is pretty good. My teacher is crazy, but in a good way, you know?"_

_In the background she could hear another voice. "Hey, Rusty."_

_"Hey, Jay."_

_"Is that your mom?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Hey, Commander Rusty's Mom!" came through the phone's speaker._

_Sharon smiled. The simple exchange warmed her. She had been back to the campus once, to bring Rusty a coat he'd forgotten and to get lunch with him. Jay had been there, so the three of them had gone together to a small restaurant on campus._

_"Tell Jay I said hello, please."_

_After another minute of exchange, it was just her and Rusty again._

_"So," she started slowly._

_"It's my mom's trial tomorrow, yeah, I know."_

_"I just wanted to check in with you."_

_A sigh crackled over the line. "Yeah. I mean there's nothing to do, really. And she totally needs it. Deserves it, whatever. It's time someone is serious with her. And she obviously hasn't gotten the whole right and wrong thing."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be. Remember what you told me? She made her own decisions. They might suck, but no one else had anything to do with them. Not me, not you."_

_He was growing up so quickly. "I know, honey."_

_"Then don't worry about it. I'm not."_

_He was, she was sure of it. It would be unlike Rusty not to worry about it. Either way, he didn't particularly want to talk about it, though._

_"If you say so."_

_"I say so." _

_She could hear the smile in his voice._

_"Alright." Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it away to look at the screen. There was an incoming call from Lieutenant Tao. "Rusty, I'm sorry-"_

_"You have to go? It's cool, Sharon, don't worry."_

_"Are we still on for lunch next week?"_

_"Again?" He laughed. "Yeah, totally."_

_"Okay. I'll see you then."_

_"Love you. Bye."_

_"I love you, too." She smiled as she ended the call and picked up the next one. "Raydor."_


	17. Skipper

_**A/N- Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone for the love, especially thehamsterinmymind, as I think you've written something about every chapter (: Also- I tried fixing the formatting stuff, but it won't work. I don't know why. I have a mac, so maybe that's it?**_

_**This is the last chapter. It's been fun for me, and hopefully for you. Thank you, loves. Oh, and I forgot to mention, but the title comes from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name. Think about it, you've probably heard the whole thing before (;**_

"The prosecution calls Commander Sharon Raydor to the stand."

Sharon stood from her seat on the bench behind Emma and smoothed her clothes. She was wearing her favorite lavender dress and the darkest, blackest blazer she owned. As per Gavin's suggestion, she had dressed as the consummate professional, the exact opposite of Sharon Beck, who was sitting across the courtroom in a blaze-orange jumpsuit.

She pretended that she didn't feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her back. There weren't any cameras, but she knew there were sketch artists and reporters, nonetheless. It shouldn't have been a big case, she didn't think, but with all the recent police publicity across the nation, it had snowballed somewhat.

She was sworn in, and she took her seat, feeling slightly awkward to be nearly two feet higher than Emma.

"Commander Raydor, can you tell me about your history with the Los Angeles Police Department?"

She took a deep breath and began. "I've been with the LAPD for thirty-eight years now." _God, has it really been that long?_ "Since 1976. I began in traffic and eventually transferred to the Internal Affairs and Professional Standards Bureau. I worked there until 2012, then transferred again to the Major Crimes Division. I have been the Women's Coordinator for the force for about twenty years now."

"That's an impressive record, Commander," Emma said, turning slightly to face the jury. "Weren't you the captain of Internal Affairs before transferring? And you're the commander of the Major Crimes Division, correct?"

"Yes."

"Wow." Emma was trying to flash the jury every credential Sharon possessed. "Can you tell me about your home life at all?"

Sharon smiled. Again, it was a suggestion from Andrea and Gavin. Smile when you talk about your family. Make connections with the jury. "I have two grown children. My eldest son works at a computer engineering firm in the north end of the state. My daughter dances professionally in New York." She paused.

"And your youngest, Commander?" Emma prodded her. They had gone over their script before, but it still felt a little awkward.

"My youngest son just started college. He's adopted," she began slowly. "He was a material witness in a murder trial last year, and he came to live with me two years ago."

"Why was that?"

"He was living on the streets. His mother had abandoned him-"

Sharon Beck shifted angrily, her handcuffs clinking.

"-and he didn't know his father. So, he was taken into emergency police custody, as he was a minor."

"So you took this boy into your home, knowing nothing about him but his name?"

"I suppose so. Russell Beck. Rusty. We had a rocky start, but we. . . we reached an understanding of each other, and I think we're as good as family now."

"You adopted him," Emma replied with a smile. It was sincere. She and Rusty had had a rather terrible beginning, to be honest, but the boy hadn't turned out half-bad.

"Yes."

"And since he's come to live with you, he's met his biological mother, hasn't he?"

"After some failed attempts to meet with her, yes."

"Failed attempts?"

Sharon looked down for a moment. "When I was first reassigned to Major Crimes, one of my jobs was to find Rusty's mother, Sharon Beck. It took us a few months to locate her, and then she agreed to come to LA if we could provide a bus ticket. We did so, but she. . . she didn't come. She vanished again, until last spring, when she contacted Rusty via e-mail."

"He met with her a few times, didn't he? And you met her?"

"Yes."

"And then what happened?"

"Rusty received a call, late one night from her, asking that he come and pick her up from an intersection across town."

"Did he go and get her?"

"No. From what he relayed to me, she was under the influence, and he had an exam he was studying for. He didn't want to help her back to her feet again."

"Perfectly understandable."

"Objection!" Sharon Beck's lawyer shot to his feet. "She can't-"

"Sustained. Ms. Rios. . ."

"I withdraw my comment," Emma said smoothly. She had accomplished what she'd meant to do.

"After that incident, did you have any further contact with the defendant?"

"I spoke to her in visitation to the county jail."

"What did you talk about?"

"She had asked Rusty to speak to me about getting her a deal with the DA's office. The maximum charge for her offences was six years, and she was hoping for one."

"One year?"

"Yes."

"That's an awfully generous deal. Did you take her up on it?" Emma continued before any objections could be raised.

This was where their script turned grey. The unorthodox interview of Sharon Beck could be taken several ways, and Emma had wanted to feel her jury out before committing to anything.

"I did not, in the end. We talked together, and she essentially told me that she wanted to get out and live with Rusty."

Sharon could feel the heat of Rusty's mother's glare.

She sighed. "I told her that Rusty needed a stable environment, and I wasn't convinced she could provide that. As an officer so close to her case, I could ask that she be randomly drug-tested, and I could ask the correctional officers at County for her status updates." She didn't mention confidential informants. Juries often didn't take kindly to hearing how easy it was to invade one's privacy.

Emma continued to work her way through the chain of events. She was incredibly methodical about it, nit-picking through details in a manner that would have made Gavin proud.

"August 13th, 2014. Does that date mean anything to you, Commander?" Emma took a step back and picked a black remote and a thick manila file up from her table.

"I was injured in the line of duty," Sharon said curtly. She knew the question was coming, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"On August 13th, Commander Raydor was ambushed outside LAPD headquarters and shot at close range by a man later identified as Christopher Angier, a known associate of the defendant." She approached the judge. "Your Honor, I would like to submit Commander Raydor's medical records as evidence. I also have some photographs I would like to display."

"Go ahead, Ms. Rios." He took the file from Emma as she began her slideshow.

Sharon had already seen it. She didn't care to see it again. It was a mixture of newspaper photos, taken by the reporters who perpetually circled Parker Center, and evidence photos taken at the hospital.

The first one was a paparazzi photo, she knew. It had been taken moments after the shot, and the photographer had gotten shockingly close. She was on the ground, eyes closed, Flynn and Tao pressing their hands to her side, and Provenza approaching with his jacket half-off.

She closed her eyes again, and tuned Emma out. Rusty had begun college six weeks before. He decided to go to UCLA, on scholarship, undecided. He had been worried about not having picked a major, but Sharon told him that he could just work on his USP credits, that having a direction didn't matter in the beginning. She had ended up completely opposite of where she had planned, and it had all worked out.

Ricky and Emily had left LA on her last day of leave. She had been glad to see them, and they had all had a good time, but she was still slightly relieved when they left. She would be down to one babysitter, and he would be leaving only a few weeks after they did.

She had helped him move in. Since he had graduated over the summer, the period between his acceptance and move-in was relatively short. However, he and his roommate seemed to get along and he wasn't far away.

Jack had called, a couple weeks after she'd first arrived home. He had seen her on the news and been shocked. She was mildly pleased that he cared enough to call. They were still _technically_ married, she supposed. The divorce still hadn't gone through. She was going to be in court again soon if Jack didn't sign the papers.

Gavin had been incensed when she had declined any sort of legal counsel for her divorce. She and Jack had written their own pre-nups, though, and figured she had retained enough of her legal knowledge to get herself through, if worst came to worst. It wasn't as though Jack was particularly fantastic, and Gavin, friend as he was, was a little too high caliber for a relatively simple divorce.

"Commander?"

Sharon blinked.

"Commander, you're free to go." It was the bailiff.

She looked over at the defense table, then at Emma. The young DA shook her head. The defense had no questions.

She got up from the stand and picked her way down the stairs. The bailiff offered his hand, and she took it. "Thank you."

"Ma'am."

She went back to her seat. Thankfully, she had been one of the last witnesses, and the trial didn't last much longer. The jury only deliberated for ten minutes or so before coming back with a guilty verdict. Sharon Beck was getting the maximum sentence: two consecutive life terms without the option of parole, resulting from every charge Emma could think to slam her with.

Everyone began to file out, but Sharon stepped forward to Emma's table. The young woman was packing up her plethora of papers, but she turned at the sound of footsteps. Sharon hugged her tightly, without warning. Emma stiffened at first, then hugged Sharon back.

"Thank you."

"Just doing my job, Commander."

How many times had she heard the same words from Brenda Leigh? The two women were rather alike, Sharon thought, although she wouldn't want them in the same room together. It would be like throwing two firecrackers into a small fishbowl and hoping the glass wouldn't break.

"You did more than just your job."

They stepped out of the courtroom together, into the relative quiet of the lobby. There were a few people milling around, maybe waiting for other trials, and two lone reporters.

The rest of Sharon's division was already waiting on the steps outside. They had left the courtroom shortly before she had.

"So, Cap- _Commander_- would you care for lunch before we put our noses back on the grindstone?" Provenza asked. It was almost too nicely phrased.

"What's the catch, Lieutenant?" She tried not to smile too widely.

"Well, there may or may not be pizza involved. . ."

"Is it that why the delivery menu was on your desk earlier?" she asked sweetly.

"Was it?" he replied, eyebrows raised.

She smiled. "As long as not everything is meat-lover's."

"Fantastic. Let's go. It's nearly two already." He started away, Tao and Buzz behind him. Amy seemed about to wait, but Sanchez pulled on her elbow and dragged her along. "I'll call your two favorite lawyers, Cap- Commander," the old lieutenant called back. "See if they can help me come up with some way to shorten your new title. It's too long by half."

Sharon turned back to Emma, but the woman had already started after the others, leaving Flynn behind.

"Skipper," he said seriously.

She snorted. "Andy."

He offered her his arm, and she took it as they slowly walked down the marble hall.

The hall echoed the sound of her heels, but seemed to swallow the other, softer noises of the few people around them.

"Say, Sharon?"

"Mmm?"

"What would you say to dinner on Sunday?"

She looked at him in surprise.

"Nothing fancy, just, I haven't had the time to cook anything for a while, and I was thinking of making lasagna this weekend or something."

"Oh." She was quiet, thinking. There were plenty of reasons to say no, but just as many to say yes. Then a thought hit her. They weren't going to be around forever. In their profession, they brushed with death nearly every day, and she had just come close to more than a mere brush.

"Alright."

"Really?"

"Yes. I would enjoy something that I don't have to cook."

He held a hand to his chest. "That hurts, Sharon."

She bumped his shoulder gently. "You know what I mean."

He grinned easily. "So, it's a date?" He seemed to realize what he had just said. "Or, uh. . ."

"No," she cut him off. Life was short enough. "It's a date." He stopped in surprise, and she turned round. "What?"

"Uh, nothing," he replied quickly.

"Come on!" Provenza called. He was standing by the door of his car, one hand on the handle. "Hobbs says to hurry up or the ice-cream is going to melt."

"What are you talking about, Lieutenant?"

"We're having a celebration, O Dark Lord."

"'Dark Lord?'" she asked amusedly.

"You've been promoted. I was just waiting for the right opportunity."

She sighed. "Does that mean 'Darth Raydor' is going to change?"

"Nah," he replied as the three of them climbed into his burgundy car, the lieutenants up front. "Sith Lords are still called 'Darth.'"

"Oh, good. I was worried."

"Don't let your guard down yet, Commander. Hobbs said your friend Baker is driving over with Rusty."

"They're all going to be in the murder room?"

"With Emma," Flynn confirmed.

"_Ye-ee gods._ Let's just hope no one feels the need for a papal visitation."

"Amen," Sharon muttered.

Provenza shot her a gleeful look through the rear-view mirror. "Did I hear you right? 'Amen?' I always knew you were one of us."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "We'll never hear the end of this, now. . ."


End file.
